Whiskey Lullaby
by Kuroi Inanis
Summary: Based on the CMV video done by VandettA Cosplay Group. In the oppressive and judgmental 1950s of post-war Germany, Roderich Edelstein and Gilbert Beilschmidt meet and secretly engage in the most forbidden of relationships. Fear drives Roderich to terminate the relations, hoping it will be better for them both. But his unexpected choice leads to the most devastating of consequences.
1. Prologue

Whiskey Lullaby

An adaptation of the _Whiskey Lullaby _CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of the characters in this story. That credit belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Additionally, the original idea of this story is credited to Cim, Mica and Fia of the cosplay group VandettA. I just borrowed the idea from their CMV. If you haven't seen it, or any of their other works, I suggest checking them out on YouTube. Their work is definitely worth watching.

Chapters One through Eight are laid out based on letters written to Gilbert Beilschmidt from Roderich Edelstein. These letters have been used with original author consent and are copyright to Vandetta Cosplay Group. I lay absolutely zero claim to them. I have done the best I can to keep the original intent of the CMV and to change very little in my interpretation. Any creative liberties that have been taken have not been taken in any attempt to alter the original piece of work.

Warning: This story will include a somewhat graphic sex scene and depict two suicides. I've never written a deathfic before, so please bear with me.

Dedications: To VandettA Cosplay, for being so kind as to allow others to adapt their CMVs into fanfictions. To my beta reader, Shannon A. Bernstein. Even though I elected to not have you beta-read this fanfiction, I appreciate what you have done for me in regards to _The Ties That Bind_, and I definitely will be sending you another chapter when this fanfiction is complete. To my wife, who always supports me, even though she doesn't understand my love of anime. And to all Hetalia fans out there who have kept this fandom alive. Thank you for watching, for reading, and for sharing.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

_The letter had come completely out of the blue, and had brought with it the fury of a bullet train and left in its wake a sort of merciless aching that never faded. Instead, with every passing day, it became ever worse, as though perhaps someone had torn his beating heart from his chest and left in its place a cancerous tumor. As days transitioned into weeks, that tumor grew like a poisoned fetus, until it seemed to develop a heartbeat of its own; a half-dead thing that somehow kept his body alive, though nothing else about him could be considered living. _

_Gilbert had never been one who took to the bottle to solve his problems. Enjoying the occasional night of inebriation over several beers with his friends hardly made him an alcoholic. After the letter had appeared, the empty whiskey bottles had come in their wake. With the whiskey had come the cigarettes, a filthy habit he had indulged in now and then and had given up entirely almost the day he first laid eyes on the man who had subsequently broken his heart. _

_The empty bottles and ill-placed ashtrays had started off by taking over the counter tops at Ludwig's home, then had migrated their way steadily to the kitchen table. From there, they divided themselves each night and engulfed the coffee table like a plague of locusts, destroying everything they touched. Finally, when Ludwig had put his foot down and demanded his brother at least isolate his bad habits where no one else could see them, they took up permanent residence on Gilbert's bedside table, his bedroom floor, and even within the bed itself. A midnight cigarette over a bottle of whiskey suddenly became a good-morning cigarette to motivate him out of bed. A late-night nip to help him sleep suddenly became the only thing that helped him make it through the day. The days blurred into weeks and then into months, and though the seasons changed and the earth continued to spin, Gilbert felt as though he were stuck in the same Hell with the same crippling agony and was only aware that things were moving because the scenery changed. Nothing within him changed, unless a slow internal death could be considered a change. The fetus inside his chest gnawed away at what little living flesh remained, and he became lifeless and zombie-like because of it. _

_Some days lay on the cusp of just miserable enough to stay in bed and just bearable enough to go out in public. On the days were getting out of bed wasn't excruciating, he went out to the market to view the street vendors and shops. The roaring fifties had somehow managed to migrate their way over from the United States and take a hold on Germany, and many shop owners peddled suits, hats, leather jackets and all sorts of odds and ends that had become popular amongst the citizens. It was good for the economy, after all, given the fact that World War II and Hitler's hold had subsequently devastated Germany and split her down the center, West Germany could use all the help she was offered. _

_On this day, Gilbert purchased himself a leather jacket and a pack of Lucky Strikes, propping himself languidly against the wall that enclosed the marketplace as he lit up and exhaled the smoke from between pursed lips. It was unseasonably warm out, even for late spring, yet the warmth that seeped in through the long sleeves of his jacket and brushed sensually against his chin did nothing to penetrate the cold grief that had blossomed inside him like a dark flower, macabre magnificent and untouchable._

_Familiar voices caught his attention and the muscles of his shoulders and back tensed, though he continued with the reflexive motion of lifting the cigarette to his mouth, taking a drag, and exhaling slowly. Two sets of footsteps approached the arched opening to the market, and his eyes were instantly attracted to the slim figure of Roderich Edelstein and his petite, long-haired companion as they crossed the threshold and continued walking, arms linked and matching strides relaxed and confident. A flare of fury welled up in his chest as Elizaveta said something he didn't catch and Roderich laughed in reply, squeezing her arm closer to his chest. _

_'Stupid bitch. What right do you have to laugh with him, knowing that he is _**_mine_**_?'_

_Except that Roderich wasn't his, not anymore. He was Hers now, and perhaps that was what hurt the worst. He had never liked the Hungarian woman, but he had come to trust her with all of his heart, because Roderich himself was his entire heart, and since Roderich had trusted her, Gilbert was given no choice but to follow suit. In his letters, Roderich had claimed that she was helping him with finding work in Germany. She was on their side, even if she did not fully understand the full spectrum of their relationship. So when she had accepted the Austrian's sudden wedding proposal, it was like being kicked in the balls. It was like having the rug pulled out from under his feet and hitting his head so hard that by the time he came back to coherency, the thief had slipped into the shadows and left him alone, mortally wounded and completely unable to defend himself. _

_Gilbert's gaze practically bore into Roderich's back, until the other seemed to finally take notice that someone was staring at him, and he reflexively turned to look over his shoulder. For the briefest of moments, their eyes met and locked. There was something unreadable in those purple irises, something that seemed to try and reach out to touch him, to caress the festering cancer-fetus within him and to assure it that it wasn't alone, that it had a twin and that twin was slowly eating away at the host it had taken residence in. _

_Just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, and Roderich's face became deadpanned and emotionless as he turned his gaze away, directing it back at Elizaveta once more. _

_'… so I was that easy to get rid of? It was really that easy to forget about me and move on? You told me you **loved** me, Roderich. You told me that you fucking __loved__ me. I told you not to use those words so lightly, and you _**_promised me forever_**_. I guess we have different definitions of forever.'_

_He wanted to scream, rant and rail. He wanted to stomp his feet and beat his fists against the wall. He wanted to chase them down, grab Roderich by the throat, and rip his heart from his chest. Perhaps then the Austrian man would understand what he had done. Perhaps then, Gilbert would understand what had compelled the man he loved to leave him so suddenly. Perhaps then, if nothing else, the pain would recede just enough that he could sleep without his eyes drifting to the bottom of a bottle and his lips kissing the tangy death of a cigarette. _

_He went home instead. Nothing would be resolved by delivering an eye for an eye, and he knew that. In the end, Roderich was still the man he loved, and he could never do a single thing to bring harm to the person he loved the most. Even if it was glaring apparent that Roderich did not share the same sentiment. _

_Ludwig was not home. No doubt he was out with Feliciano Vargas, the wide-eyed and cherubic-faced little Italian his brother had taken a sweetness to that baffled even Gilbert. He never would have expected that his straight-lace, serious younger brother would choose to share company with someone so loud and unabashedly shameless, but he himself was proof that opposites attracted in the strangest of ways. Gilbert was unsure as to the nature of their relations, but he suspected that they were much the same as what he had once shared with Roderich. If that were the case, he could only pray the same fate did not befall them as well. _

_The whiskey was exceptionally bitter tonight. He was unsure as to if that was a direct result of his chance encounter in the marketplace, or if perhaps it was simply that he had not touched the bottle at all today and as a result had forgotten until now just how vile the potent liquor was. Whatever the cause, he downed it in heavy gulped, paying no mind to the sticky rivers that ran down his chin and soaked the front of his last clean dress shirt. These past few months of a whiskey-and-cigarette diet had not been kind to his body, and his clothes hung from his body like he was a snake shedding its skin. He did not have to look in a mirror to know that deep bags had taken up permanent residence under his eyes, nor that his hair was a stark-white mess atop his head and his face was unshaven and sloppy. His once-vibrant red eyes were dulled down now, constantly glazed over with a disassociated sort of a pain that effectively cut him off from the rest of the world. Even the East Berliners, who claimed to be suffering oppression and isolation at the hands of the Soviet Union, could not hope to understand the kind of pain he endured. In a way, being an Eastern Berliner might have been better. At least then, fate never would have allowed him to meet the Austrian musician Roderich Edelstein. _

_With the inebriation came the tears. He had not cried when the letter came, not at first. In fact, at first he had attempted to play it off as a sick joke. A way to test him, in retaliation of all the ways he had tested Roderich. His sloppy appearance, devil-may-care attitude, and boorish excuse for manners had caused many disagreements between them, and he had always wondered what a refined and dignified aristocrat such as Roderich was doing keeping company with a man like him. Whenever he had asked, Roderich had merely shaken his head and given a shrug and a smile. Apparently, he didn't understand himself either, but it had never seemed to bother him. Because it had never bothered him, it had never bothered them. _

_When a week went by a no other letters came, that was when the panic had started. That was when Gilbert had considered going to Austria and seeking out Roderich himself. That was when his heart made connection with his mind and he came to realize that this was anything but a sick joke; this was reality, a reality that was his and a reality that he did not want to face. Where there had once been letters with subtle declarations of love and promises of a life together in Germany, now there were only five earth-shattering words. Where there had been an open line of communication, now there was only silence. _

_When the announcement of their engagement was made official in the Berlin Times, that was when Gilbert had accepted it. Or, at the very least, accepted that everything he had built his hopes upon had crumbled like towers constructed of sand crushed under the weight of a sudden tsunami. In its wake, it left nothing but a barren wasteland and a book full of unanswered questions. _

_He stepped away from where he had been standing at the window, and made it as far as the table before his legs buckled out from under him and he collapsed. Empty whiskey bottles and half-full ashtrays scattered haphazardly across the floor as his head dipped down so his arms could cradle its weight. He didn't want to think anymore, he didn't want to feel anymore, he didn't want to __live__ anymore. _

"_… I loved you…" _

_Perhaps he hadn't said it enough. Perhaps Roderich had left him because words were never something he was good at. He had tried so hard to convey in actions what he could not articulate, and it had always seemed to be enough. Until those five simple words effectively washed away every action Roderich had returned to counter his own. _

_Five. Fucking. Words. _

_His hand flailed out blindly until he located an empty bottle at his side, and he was able to find the energy to rise only so he could hurl the bottle at the wall directly across the room. It made contact and shattered on impact, sending glass shards and stray whiskey droplets flying across the room. If any of them hit him, he took no notice of it. _

"_I fucking _**_loved_**_** you**, Roderich! I would have given up _**_anything_**_ for you! I would have _**_died for you_**_! And God help me, even if I don't understand it, I still would!"_

_The energy brought on by his tantrum drained as quickly as it had appeared and he dropped to his knees once more, letting his head drop to the tabletop and one sob wracked his shoulders, then a second. _

"_… I still would…"_

_A sort of realization dawned on him. It came on slowly, creeping up on him like a predator stalks its prey, striking the back of his mind with the same deadly precision and accuracy. He lifted his head, directing his half-drunken gaze across the room until his eyes fell on Ludwig's pistol. Rarely did his brother leave home without it, but Feliciano did not condone violence of any sort, and so the younger Beilschmidt brother had taken to leaving it behind more and more these days. _

_Gilbert was not even aware that he had moved until he found himself suddenly bent over a discarded notepad, scrawling out a sloppy note in handwriting that was already atrocious but seemed to become even worse thanks to the belly full of liquor he was currently sitting on. He did not even have to look at the words to know what he was scrawling down, for these words had been perhaps the only ones Roderich had given him that had impacted him as deeply as his last letter had. His last letter was a parting, and these words had been a greeting between two people who had already met and fallen in love. _

Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe.*

_Even if Roderich had never meant them, Gilbert always would. _

_He positioned himself on the couch, clutching the loaded gun in right hand and the note in left. He kept his eyes closed as his arm moved, raising the gun up and up and up until he could feel the cool bite of the barrel at his temple. _

_For the briefest of moments, he wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if there was any truth to the Christian belief that those who took their own lives would condemn themselves to burn eternally in the fires of Hell. It would concern him, if it weren't for the fact that he was a gay man who had engaged in a relationship with another gay man in post-World War II Germany. If there was a ticket to Hell with his name on it, then he had already purchased it. And, really, God himself could never create any place that was as painful at this. He already lived his life as though he were dead, and found little solace somewhere in the bitter bile of cheap whiskey and the burn of cigarettes. If there were a worse place than this one, Gilbert was almost excited to see it. _

_Eyes still open, focused on nothing, his finger shifted and he compressed the trigger._

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N.

*Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe = I will love him until I die.


	2. Chapter 1

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

* * *

Chapter 01

* * *

_They buried Gilbert on a seasonably cool spring morning. Roderich could not remember if it had been sunny out or cloudy. He could barely remember dressing himself that morning, though he could remember that he had made sure to lay out his very best suit for the funeral. He remembered that Eliza had prepared him a hearty breakfast of wurst, eggs, pastries and tea, and had made some comment about how he was looking 'pale and sallow' today. He had barely touched the food, though he had inhale the tea in large, painful swallows that burned the back of his throat and made his eyes water. When she wasn't looking, he replaced the scalding amber liquid with liquid of a similar color and a much different burn. _

_Ludwig had not been cruel about it. Nor, thankfully, had he been descriptive about the way in which Gilbert had died. He had only disclosed that his brother had been the victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head, and had left behind a note consisting of seven simple words in German - Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe. I will love him until I die. Upon inquiring about what the note might mean, Roderich had forced a half-hearted smile and simply apologized, but he really had no idea, and he was very sorry he couldn't be of more help. _

_It was obvious that Ludwig had never read his letters to Gilbert, because he never would have asked what Roderich knew if he had. He had simply returned them, mostly because Roderich had been the original author of them and perhaps Ludwig felt that having them would bring the slim Austrian man some form of peace. He had accepted them graciously with outstretched hands and cradled them against his chest, though they were a pathetically poor substitute for what he truly wanted to hold in his arms. _

_Of course, Roderich had been blessed with quite the vivid imagination since he was very young, so even if the younger Beilschmidt brother had felt the need to be forthcoming with the details, there was not a single thing he could have told him that his mind had not already conjured up. His dreams last night had been nothing but nightmares, a slow-motion torture show of Gilbert putting the gun to his head, setting the chamber, pulling the trigger, his brains and his blood and fragments of his skull flying – _

_He had woken himself with his own sobbing, though thankfully Elizaveta was the heaviest of sleepers and she had merely grunted and stirred before rolling over and stilling once more. Past that point, he had been unable to sleep and had risen from the bed and journeyed to the kitchen, taking solace and company with a cup of tea until day broke and his wife joined him, none the wiser. _

_Eliza really had been his stronghold in his time of need. When the small funeral had come to its conclusion, she had taken him by the hand and led him back to the home they shared. She had not pressed for answers or asked too many questions. She had not, thankfully, asked him how he was feeling or if there was anything she could do to ease his suffering. In her blissful ignorance of the truth of the situation, she had backed off and mercifully given him the space he required. They had sat together at the kitchen table, drinking tea, her eyes directed at the morning paper while his eyes were directed out the window, his fingers entertained by the spoon he stirred mindlessly in his cooling beverage. _

_At some point, she left for the marketplace. Once she was gone, and the house was silent, he rose from his seat and disposed of his tea in the sink. He refilled the cup with a healthy dose of top-shelf whiskey, retrieved the first letter he had written to Gilbert from the top of the small stack, and sat down to read it._

* * *

"Gilbert, could you at least _look_ at me?"

Roderich found himself shifting nervously back and forth on his feet. The boy who stood before him – and he felt justified in using the term 'boy', because the white-haired man really was acting childish – looked as though the last thing he wanted to do was make a new friend. He found himself wondering how someone as refined as Elizaveta Hedervary would come to know someone who looked as rough and rugged as Gilbert did. Obviously he worked as a stable boy on her family's lavish plantation, so it would make sense that perhaps she would know him in passing and even recall his name. But to feel so confident as to address him directly and to attempt to introduce him to someone of Roderich's class and birth… it was uncommon and downright improper in this day and age.

Perhaps they shared some form of secret relationship. Mingling between classes was not nearly as uncommon as people would like to think it was, and on a huge and isolated plot of land such as this one, no one would be the wiser if the affair was conducted with the utmost secrecy and care.

"Woman, I have work to do. Get off my ass."

Roderich crinkled his nose up at the gruff tone and even gruffer words that came out of Gilbert's mouth. If Elizaveta was indeed engaged in any form of relations with this undignified, uncultured oaf, then Roderich felt nothing but pity for the poor girl, and had every intention of informing her that she could do much, much better.

"Gilbert! That's no way to speak to me, and you know it! Now, stop being such a bastard and turn to _look_ at us."

… then again, if a lady was using such language, perhaps they were better suited for each other than he originally believed.

Gilbert sighed and reached up with one dirty hand, plucking the toothpick clutched between his teeth from his lips. After a moment's hesitation, he directed his gaze from where it had been stubbornly directed at the stable wall to set it steadily on Roderich. His lips parted, no doubt in preparation for something utterly unfriendly and half-hearted at best to escape.

At the same time, their eyes met. Gilbert's lips immediately stilled, and Roderich felt the rest of the world around him grow suddenly immobile. Unconsciously his tongue darted from his mouth and licked his lips, and then his teeth parted ever so slightly so he could suck his lower lip inward to gnaw on it gently. Roderich wasn't sure why, but he felt as though he was staring into the single most beautiful pair of eyes that he had ever seen. They were ruby-red and glowed with a vibrant sort of ferociousness, their strange hue offset by the man's shockingly white hair and pale skin.

When their gazes broke, it was only so Gilbert's eyes could skim quickly but sensually down Roderich's lithe frame and then back up to his face. It was a move that was nearly undetectable unless one were watching for it, and it sent a pleasant shockwave up and down Roderich's spine and left his toes tingling and a warmth burning just below his navel that rose the slightest of blushes to his cheeks. Gilbert's lip curled up in a crooked half-smile, and Roderich felt his own mouth curve up in reply. When their hands instinctively reached out and met in the middle, Roderich had the sudden strange sensation of wanting to grasp on to that hand and never, ever let it go.

"… Gilbert Beilschmidt."

His voice was still gruff, but there was a sudden softness in his tone that reminded Roderich of the feeling of a horsehair brush running through his hair. Rough and a bit uncomfortable, but pleasing to the senses.

"Roderich Edelstein. Pleased to meet you."

Their hands lingered for just a moment too long to be natural before Gilbert pulled away and popped the toothpick back in his mouth, tearing his eyes from Roderich so he could settle them instead on Elizaveta.

"Is that all?"

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"Your manners are nothing short of barbaric. But yes, that is all."

Gilbert nodded his head and turned to go, but not before dropping one last gaze on Roderich that left his legs feeling weak and his head swimming deliciously.

"I'll see you around, Little Master."

… Little Master? What was that supposed to mean? Where did such a ridiculous name even come from? Still, Roderich had to admit to himself that he didn't find the nickname to be quite as unpleasant as he would have assumed he would.

"… yeah. I'll see you around."

* * *

Roderich spent the rest of the day touring the grounds of Elizaveta's home, though he could not recall what it was they talked about or half the things she attempted to teach him. His mind was stubbornly fixated on the stables, refusing to deviate away from its racing thoughts concerning a foul-mouthed albino young man with a disarming smile and a handshake that sent shivers down his spine. If Eliza took any note of his distant demeanor, she accepted it in stride and undoubtedly attributed it to the fatigue of making the journey from Austria to Germany and nothing more.

When finally he was able to pry himself from her side, it was after dinner. He excused himself politely and journeyed away from the house, walking along the fence that marked her family's property line before deviating away and heading towards a thicket of trees. An evening breeze had cooled the oppressively hot summer air, and Roderich finally sank down to sit himself at a bald patch of the earth where the roots broke through the soil and no life could thrive in the dirt. He drew his knees to his chest and rested his forearms atop them, staring out at the tall grass that blew lethargically in the wind as his mind was finally able to shed its guilt at focusing more on Gilbert than on his gracious hostess.

Since he was little, Roderich had always suspected that there was something different about the way he thought of others. He had been too young to truly understand the ramifications of Hitler's movement against those he perceived as the weaker of the human species. Instead, he understood only that he was born of noble blood and was to keep his thoughts and feelings on most matters to himself, whether they pertained to the war or were something entirely more internal and personal. Likewise, he understood that he was expected to eventually marry and carry on the Edelstein name in all respects. His father had not outright said it, but Roderich had the sneaking suspicion that this sudden trip to Germany came about from his father's need to marry his only son off to a rich, high-born woman than it did to give the musician a much-needed break from his rigorous studies. Elizaveta was kind and sweet and very beautiful in her own right, and he remembered fondly that from time to time her family attended the lavish dinner parties his father put on when he was a child.

He did not, however, harbor any feelings for her. Not then, not now, and doubtfully ever. When it came down to it, he highly doubted he would ever harbor feelings for any woman, no matter her nobility, her monetary standing, or her beauty.

Now, when it came to the strange and curious case of a bad-mouthed, low-born, barely educated stable boy with red eyes…

"Little Master. I didn't expect to see you so far away from the house. Did you get lost?"

The gruff voice came out of nowhere, breaking into Roderich's silent thoughts, and he nearly jumped in shock when the young man appeared from seemingly nowhere, his movements slow and lazy and a half-smile dancing across his lips. His white sleeves were rolled up and his shirt untucked, and Roderich could see specks of dirt at the front of his shirt and down his pale, muscled arms. How was it possible that someone who had undoubtedly worked under the blazing sun all summer long was still as pale as though it were the dead of winter?

It took his brain several moments to realize the implications behind Gilbert's words and Roderich bristled in reply, adjusting his glasses before standing to face the albino more directly.

"I am most certainly not _lost_, Herr* Beilschmidt. I simply came away from the house to clear my head is all. Traveling does nothing to afford a person any form of good health, and Elizaveta is a woman who at times can be hyperactive and prone to over-explanations. I required time to myself."

"If you mean that she's nosey and doesn't know how to shut up, I can agree with you there. Every time I turn around, she's trying to introduce me to new people. It's uncomfortable and strange. I'm not here because I'm part of the elite class like she is. Some of us actually have to work for a living. However…"

Gilbert paused and allowed his eyes to trail up and down Roderich's body, and just the same as before, a pleasant chill ran up and down the musician's back as a ball of heat settled in the area directly below his stomach. His face grew warm and Gilbert grinned and then laughed, a noise surprisingly pleasant given the gruff nature of his voice.

"… I have to admit that meeting you wasn't so bad. Given that you're an aristocrat and all."

Roderich's face felt as though it was suddenly on fire and he sputtered indignantly, struggling for a proper response and lifting his hands up to adjust a cravat he suddenly remembered wasn't there. His traveling clothes were much simpler than his usual attire, and he forced himself to blame the basic slacks, long-sleeved white shirt, and suspenders as the reason to why he suddenly felt so naked and exposed.

"Calm down, Little Master. I don't mean anything by it. Now, about you not being lost…"

He took a step back and stretched his arms out as though the entire area was his to put on display. The early evening setting sun caught his ruby eyes and practically lit them on fire, bringing out underlying hues of red; rose, crimson, maroon, rust, lust. If lust could be a color, it was there, and it was strikingly vibrant.

"Could you find your way back from here?"

Roderich balked at the question and looked around frantically, realizing that he had absolutely no idea how he had come to be where he was, or even _where_ he was. The comforting landmark of the fence was swallowed up in the early evening haze, and Roderich was completely disoriented and absolutely mortified when he realized that fact.

"… I suppose that I could not, no."

Gilbert's smile was triumphant, but held no malice, as his hands dropped to his side and he made his way back to the tree, leaning against it as he looked at Roderich over his shoulder.

"So I suppose that you'll have to rely on me to get you home. I'll be more than happy to help, but don't expect it for free."

Roderich crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled sharply, darting his glance over towards where the trees became thicker. If need be, he could just stay where he was until someone at the house finally noticed how late it was getting and sent out a search party. But that could take hours, and he was already fatigued from the heat of the day and the long journey.

"… I don't have any money with me."

"I don't want you money. God, I'm not _that_ desperate."

"… then what do you want?"

A small smile graced his lips as he lolled his head further back on his shoulder. Roderich suddenly realized how close they were and took a step back, even though everything in his mind was screaming at him to close the distance between them. He had desired the touch of a man before, and had even dared to kiss one, but never so much as the way in which he suddenly, unexplainably desired Gilbert.

"Let's talk. Tell me about Austria, and I'll tell you about Germany. Not the Germany that your precious Elizaveta knows, of course. The Germany that the rest of us live in."

Roderich registered that Gilbert's lips were moving, but he was having the hardest time focusing on the words. A long pause lay between them while Roderich struggled to say something,_ anything_ comprehendible, as a tension built between them that turned the air electric and conceived a pregnant silence that twisted and writhed in its placenta, screaming breathlessly to be born.

"Okay, I'll start then. And here I'm always told that the aristocrats can talk for hours about anything. Let's see…"

All Roderich could fixate on was Gilbert's lips. The way they moved, the way he would dart his tongue out to moisten them, the way he would crook them up into that damn addictive half-grin at the end of nearly every sentence. How they looked so soft despite the fact that Gilbert was anything but soft, the way that thinking about how they would feel against his own left him growing hard in his trousers, the way he somehow wanted the man before him to be the one to take care of that problem. Roderich had been raised to be rational, level-headed, and socially appropriate. He had not been raised to desire a man's hand touching his naked body. He had not been raised to reject the societal norms of his homeland and his family. He had not been raised believing that being homosexual was acceptable.

But as Gilbert continued to speak, and the breeze picked up and blew in Roderich's direction a pleasant blend of soap, clean sweat, earth, and something distinctively _Gilbert_, Roderich found that he didn't care how he had been raised. In the span of only a few hours, and with a single handshake and a few suggestive glances, this man before him had taken his rational mind and managed to toss it to the first careless wind. It drifted away like a forgotten memory, whimpering one last cry of indignation before it died and dissipated away like morning dew in the rising sun.

It was like being reborn.

Roderich wasn't sure what Gilbert was talking about when he reached over and silenced the endless prattling with a kiss. The move was awkward at best, his slender fingers and small hands closing around the defined curve of his companion's jawbone moments before their lips were pressed together.

Gilbert immediately froze as every inch of his body went rigid in shock. A moment later his stance shifting to turn in to Roderich as his hand came up to settle on the shorter man's arm, his fingers drifting up and down the supple skin in a timid attempt at caressing. Roderich could feel callouses on Gilbert's fingertips, signs of a life spent working, and felt almost ashamed that his own hands were nearly flawless and almost womanly in comparison.

They drew away from each other only slightly, just enough that their eyes could meet. If Roderich had perceived the color of lust in Gilbert's eyes before, it was nothing in comparison to now.

They met again in the middle, but this time the motion was fast and reckless. Gilbert's hand slid up to cup at Roderich's cheek, then pushed itself back into the hair at the nape of the Austrian's neck as his free arm caught his waist and pulled them chest-to-chest. Their lips mashed together sloppily, and when Gilbert parted his lips and darted his tongue out to run it across Roderich's lower lip, he didn't even have to think twice before he opened his mouth and granted instant access.

"… God…"

Gilbert laughed throatily and pushed himself ever closer to Roderich, tugging at the musician's tucked-in shirt and freeing it from its confines at his waistline before he pushed his hand under the thin cloth, his fingertips ghosting over Roderich's spine in such a way that the smaller man cried out in pleasure, melting helplessly into the touch.

The evening haze seemed to fill Roderich's head, making information processing a complete impossibility. At one point, he was suddenly off his feet. At another, he was laid down upon the sun-kissed earth and his shirt was undone. There were hands, lips, a tongue, and they were all touching him in places he should be shameful of, but was not. The sun was sinking below the horizon when cool air brushed against his heated flesh and he whimpered, not in fear but in delicious anticipation of what was to come.

"Mmm… Little Master...

"… Roderich. It's Roderich."

"… very well, then. Roderich."

And then he was there, at the climax, his feet dangling over the edge of a cliff, his heart clenched firmly but cautiously in his companion's teeth. And despite not being able to see what lay below, he closed his eyes and sank into it as though the action were as natural as breathing.

* * *

It had been only a day since his encounter with Gilbert, but it felt as though it had been eons. When it was all over, and Roderich had come back to earth from wherever it was his mind had ended up, the taller man was lying, fully clothed, next to him in the soft grass. The sun had dipped down below the mountains and the stars had come out to play with the moon, and though he could not recall all that had happened between them, that didn't seem to matter.

Gilbert had talked incessantly for hours about Germany, paying special attention to a place in _München he was convinced they had to go together__._ Roderich had simply listened, nestled contently in the Prussian's warm embrace, inhaling the sweet scent of sweat and earth and lust, occasionally breaking his companion's train of thought to pull him in for another long, sweet kiss.

At some point, voices calling his name had broken through their private moment and they had risen hastily, giving Roderich barely enough time to make himself appear proper before Elizaveta and a few men from the house had rounded the bend and spotted them, sitting together on a rock and pointing out stars together as though it were the most normal thing to be doing.

Gilbert dominated his waking thoughts; his touch haunted his slumbering hours, as few as they were. Early in the morning, before the rest of the house was awake, Roderich rose from his bed and made his way across the room to the desk. Eliza had provided him with plenty of paper and ink, and he turned on the small bedside light and took a moment to reflect on what he wanted to say before he delicately dipped the quill and began to compose.

**Gilbert,**

**It's been a pleasure seeing you all these times. Last night was amazing and I want you to know that I have never felt this strongly towards anyone before. **

**Forgive my straight-forwardness (is that a word? You're injecting my mind with nonsense, fool) but I really feel that I must tell you this. Everything. You told me about a place in Munchen, I'd love to go there with you. **

**Until then, **

**Roderich**

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N.

*Herr = "Sir" or "Mr." in German.


	3. Chapter 2

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

* * *

Chapter 02

* * *

_Time passed in a strange blur of misery, sleepless nights, and alcohol. Somehow, the passage of days became the passage of a month. It grew hot again in Germany. Elizaveta, who had always enjoyed the outdoors, insisted that they go for walks through town at every opportunity presented to them. Roderich oftentimes lacked the energy to even get out of bed, let alone to tour any part of Germany that reminded him of Gilbert, but he had been raised learning to keep up appearances, and so he very rarely turned her requests down. _

_This particular day, the sun seemed exceptionally bright and unbearably too hot. Of course, that could be a result of the hangover he was nursing, but it wasn't something Roderich paid much thought to as Elizaveta slipped her arm into his, keeping up a pleasant stream of chatter as they left the plantation and made their way through the streets of the village. Roderich trailed his eyes over the fruit and vegetable stands and observed children laughing and playing in the streets, all with an air of cool disinterest. Once in a while he would nod his head or make some return comment to whatever it was Eliza was saying, though it seemed to take more of his energy than usual to do so. There was something about summer that he found strangely unnerving, though his head felt too heavy and his cognition too sluggish to recall exactly why that was. It was something important, something deep and impacting and painful, something that danced just at the edge of his coherency, waving a flag that screamed 'here I am, here is the answer, try just a little __**harder**__ to reach it…' _

_It was when Elizaveta led him out to the pier overlooking the lake and directed him to sit down and relax that it came to him. It hadn't been all __**that**__ long, not if he really stopped to measure the true length of a human life in comparison to the history of the earth, but it felt as though it had been eons ago. A memory very much like the whisper of church bells on the wind; clear and concise if one was open to it, but easily missed if distracted. _

"… _Roderich… I'm concerned about you. It's been a month, but you have yet to even start to come out of your depression. You haven't touched your piano. You barely eat, and you've lost the weight to prove it. I understand that he was your best friend, and you cared for him deeply, but Gilbert would not want you to suffer this way."_

_He bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. It would not, of course, be a mirthful laugh. Her kindness and straightforward attempts at addressing his ever-mounting depression were sweet, but completely incorrect and profoundly ineffective. Allowing her to console him was much the same as giving a color-blind man a paintbrush and telling him to capture the colors of the rainbow on his canvas. She was completely blind to everything that had transpired between them. Their passion had been red, and she could see only blue. _

_Roderich would like to say that he could at least believe that Gilbert would not want him to suffer, but even that was something he could not confirm with complete confidence. No matter his motivations, what he had done to the man he loved could be called nothing if not betrayal. A knife straight to the back would have most likely been more pleasant than a letter comprised of five of the cruelest words in existence. _

_If, by some miracle, Gilbert did not want Roderich to suffer, Roderich himself was more than glad to take up that torch instead. If, by chance, his suffering were to alleviate his guilt, that would be the only point in which he would wish for that suffering to stop. He was reaping what he had laid in the earth, and he had no one to blame but himself for that. _

_Somehow, even though he felt he had no energy left to do so, he afforded her the weakest of smiles, reaching out to take her hand in his own, running his slender fingers over her knuckles. _

"_He was my very best friend, Eliza. Our time was short, and life is cruel to have done this to us all. I can only pray he has found himself in a better place than here, if this life was so miserable that he felt he had to cut it short by his own hand."_

"_Death is always hardest for those left behind. Gilbert was a good and God-fearing man. I'm sure he is preparing a place in Heaven for us all."_

_She directed her gaze away from him and instead focused it on the placid waters of the lake, and Roderich took this stolen moment to wipe at the tears that were rapidly forming in his eyes before they had a chance to slide down his face. It was a quiet day, bright and crystal clear, and if he strained his ears just hard enough, he could hear the echoes of days come and gone in the air. Intimate, private words, spoken on this very pier. The sound of laughter and the splashing of water. Being sucked into a moment so exclusive and so secretive that he felt like a mortal being accepted into the ranks of the Gods themselves. _

"… _take me home, Eliza. I wish to go home now. I'm not feeling too well today."_

"_All you ever do is stay inside, Roderich. You'll catch your death, if you don't start getting more sunlight."_

_Roderich wasn't sure what he found more painful; the fact that she had noticed his withdrawal from the world around him, or the realization that catching his death may not be so bad after all. At the very least, if he were dead, perhaps he would have the chance to see Gilbert again. The chance to explain his actions. The chance to apologize, even if his apology wasn't accepted. _

"… _please, Eliza. I want to go home."_

_She looked as though she wanted to say more, but had decided it was a fight not worth engaging in. Instead she rose to her feet and put her hand out to him, a silent invitation to help him up. The afternoon sun caught the smooth, flawless metal of her wedding band and Roderich choked on a sob, barely able to cover it up as a cough before he struggled to his feet, declining her assistance with a muttered apology. _

"_I don't like the sound of that cough. I think I may call for the doctor, when we arrive home." _

_It would be a waste of her time and her money, but Roderich did not object. She could call whoever she wanted, so long as she took him away from the pier. On instinct he bowed his elbow and she slipped her arm into the crook, smiling up at him comfortingly as she began to direct his footsteps back to the stability of land. _

_The ghosts of the past followed._

* * *

**Gilbert, **

**I miss you of all my heart. **

**This week I'll be away Augsburg, maybe it would be fitting to see you once I'm there, what do you say? I'll be there from the 5****th**** to the 17****th****, I'm sure you'll find the time. If you don't then that's fine.**

**I've been looking for jobs nearby, I might find something closer to you.**

**I guess that's all I have to say on the matter. **

**Until we meet again,**

**Roderich**

* * *

"… a picnic?"

"Why not? It's a nice day out. Don't tell me you're allergic to sunlight, Little Master."

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

Gilbert laughed and turned away from where he was busy hammering away at a plank of wood, fixing a bright-eyed smile on Roderich that made him smile in kind.

"Well, it's what you are, isn't it? So what do you say? You, me, and a picnic? We can go out on the pier, maybe do a little fishing. I'll even be nice enough to dig the worms out for you, so you don't get your dainty hands dirty."

Roderich paused and bit his lip, kneading the soft flesh between his teeth. He had made an impromptu trip out to see Elizaveta (or so was his excuse, much to his father's joy) under the guise of looking for work in Germany. Only Gilbert and he knew the real reason for his visit, but that did not clear him of his duties of entertaining his hostess. They were set to have lunch together at a café in town, and he found himself wondering how he could get out of the obligation. Surely he could find some excuse, but would it be strong enough to be believable?

"I have prior obligations, Gilbert. You know that. What am I to tell Elizaveta?"

"That spending time with me is more important?"

"Gilbert! You know that she would find that highly improper!"

"I would find what highly improper?"

Both men turned at the sound of Eliza's voice, finding her standing in the doorway to the barn. She nodded to Gilbert and gave him a smile, which he returned with a slight nod of his head and a frown, before she turned her attentions on Roderich.

"I came down to tell you that I must cancel our lunch engagement. I'm very sorry, but one of father's business associates has arrived unexpectedly, and he wishes for me to attend a formal lunch here at home. He has invited you as well, but I fear that it would be extremely awkward and boring for you. If you would rather not, we would both understand."

Her timing could not be more perfect. An excuse has been needed, and an excuse had seemingly walked it way right into the barn and settled itself quite comfortably in his lap. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he was quite thankful that their lunch engagement was now canceled and his day was free.

"I appreciate the invitation, but I agree with your fears. It will be much better if I am not present at your father's formal meeting. After all, I am a stranger, and I should not be privy to any form of discussion between your father and such an important associate. I will procure lunch for myself, and we will plan to dine together tonight and enjoy lunch at the café tomorrow. We have time, after all."

Elizaveta nodded, but Roderich did not miss the flash of disappointment that crossed briefly over her face.

"What will you do for lunch today? Surely you will not dine alone; you do not know the town, and I fear you getting lost as you did the last time you were here."

A bright blush engulfed Roderich's face at the memory of his first private meeting with Gilbert. To this day, he could not recall exactly what had transpired that night. It was clear that _something_ had happened, but he had not awoken the next day with any form of aches and pains or stiffness that would imply that things had gone _that_ far. Still, the memory of Gilbert's arms enfolded around him and the rumble of his voice in his chest against Roderich's ear danced in the Austrian's thoughts, and his skin tingled and burned with the sudden need for that contact.

"I'll take him out and show him the town. Maybe we'll go sit down by the lake and have lunch there, since it's not too hot today. Of course, that's provided someone packs us a picnic. And I'm allowed to leave halfway through my work day."

Gilbert's smile was loose and friendly when both Roderich and Elizaveta turned to look at him. A bright grin passed over Eliza's face and she nodded her approval, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"Wonderful! I would be more than glad to relieve you from work for the day, if you'll do the honors of showing our guest around town! I'll have Helga pack you a lunch immediately, and I'll make sure father knows to pay you for the entire day."

She turned with a flourish, her long skirt billowing behind her as she headed back up towards the main house. Roderich watched her go and then turned his narrowed eyes on Gilbert, who grinned with all the triumph of the cat who has cornered the mouse.

"Well, then. It looks as though it is decided for us."

"Not quite. I have my own stipulations for the day, Herr Beilschmidt."

The smile dropped slightly from Gilbert's face, but he nodded and set his hammer down, starting to peel his work gloves from his hands.

"Let's hear it, then."

Roderich smiled and reached into the large satchel he was carrying, extracting a brand-new camera from within. Gilbert's eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped open, his eyes darting from Roderich's face to the offending object in his hands.

"Where did you get that? It must have cost a fortune!"

"It was not the cheapest thing I have ever purchased, that's for sure. My train arrived early yesterday and while I was waiting for Eliza to arrive to pick me up, I took a moment to view some of the market shops. There was a kind Italian boy who gave me all the details about it and sold it to me straightaway along with the proper film. He says it's a Bencini Comet S, though of course that means nothing to me. Up until now, I've never had need of a camera."

He carefully removed the cap and fiddled with a few of the settings, finally lifting it up and looking through the view window at Gilbert.

"Five pictures for an afternoon picnic. I feel that is fair."

Gilbert frowned and shook his head, putting his hand up to block Roderich's view of his face.

"No deal. I hate having my picture taken. It's a waste of time."

"… I do not get to see you very often, Gilbert. I am looking for work in Germany, but right now I am bound to Austria. I have nothing of you but a few letters. This is important to me, so please allow me to do this."

Roderich's voice was soft and lacked all of its usual haughtiness and natural authority, and Gilbert sighed and groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. _One_ picture. Only one!"

"… but I want more than one…"

Now Roderich's tone was playful, and Gilbert felt something warm and pleasant birth itself in his stomach and start to spread through his body, slowly working out the anxiety that had arisen when the Austrian had produced the camera.

"One picture for a picnic sounds fair. Unless you have something else to barter with."

They were toeing a dangerous line, being so flirtatious in such an open place, but Gilbert found that he didn't care. The day was calm and quiet, and most of the house staff was busy entertaining their unexpected guest. They were alone down here, and if they were careful enough, they could play a little game before their lunch arrived and they left for the lake.

Roderich peeked out at him from behind the camera, allowing the bulky item to hide his face as he walked in slow, measured steps towards Gilbert. When he was so close that their noses could nearly touch, he lowered the camera down and held it at his side in his left hand. His eyes darted briefly to the barn door, and then he leaned forward and brushed his lips, ever so softly, against the soft flesh at Gilbert's throat.

"Four pictures, then. Four is fair."

"Mmm. No. Two. One for the picnic, and one for that little kiss. Two pictures, Roderich."

Roderich loved it when Gilbert used his real name. He had never liked the sound of it, mainly because he felt it was uptight and prudish. His upbringing had already dictated that he had no choice but to act the noble that he was, but that did not mean he took pleasure in it. If he had his own way, he would be free to speak his mind and live his life as free as Gilbert did. When Gilbert spoke his name, especially in a low, deep, husky tone, it made him feel special. It made him feel as though his name was beautiful. In a way, it made him feel as though he was completely, undeniably free.

He licked his lips to moisten them and then leaned forward once more, making just the slightest of contact with Gilbert's mouth. His lips lingered there, barely moving, as his free hand lifted from his side and placed itself at the Prussia's inner thigh, gently stroking over the well-muscles flesh through his work jeans. Gilbert shuddered under his touch and groaned out his approval, and Roderich gave his leg a firm squeeze before pulling away.

"… three."

Gilbert was breathless and at a complete loss for words, as was evident by the blush across his pale face and the way his chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled for air.

"Okay. Three."

Grinning victoriously, Roderich stepped away from his companion just as Helga, the kitchen servant, appeared in the doorway with a woven picnic basket clutched in her meaty hand. Roderich thanked her kindly and took the bulging basket from her, waiting until she had turned and disappeared before he directed his gaze back on Gilbert.

"You do realize, of course, that I get to pick the poses."

* * *

"If you fall in, I'm not jumping in to save you. Were you never taught that swimming so soon after eating can cause cramps?"

"We ate nearly two hours ago."

Had it really been that long? Roderich had lost track of the time once they arrived out at the lake and had settled themselves down on the pier to enjoy a meal of wurst, potatoes, yeast rolls and cherry pie. There had also been a large glass tumbler filled with water and a much smaller tumbler with brandy, and they had eaten to the bursting point before rolling up the legs of their pants and stretching out across the solid wood to allow their meals to digest and their heads to settle. It was only recently that Gilbert had come upon an unexplainable burst of energy and had risen to his feet, using the edge of the dock as a balancing beam as he walking back and forth, arms struck out like the wings of an airplane.

"We've also been drinking."

Gilbert laughed, even as he swayed slightly, one foot coming halfway off the wood before he was able to find his balance and place his full weight on it once more.

"I can hold my liquor, Little Master. I don't know what pussy drinks they serve in Austria, but we drink the good stuff here. Puts hair on your chest."

"Gilbert! Language! Must you always be such an uncultured clod?"

Roderich's reaction only made Gilbert laugh harder, and the musician struggled into a sloppy sitting position on the edge of the dock so he could glance at Gilbert over his shoulder.

"I'm serious! There is absolutely nothing about that language that is appropriate!"

"Come off it, Roderich. You're not having lunch with some stuffy noble, and you certainly aren't dressed to the nines. You have your fucking pantlegs rolled up, your shirt has dirt on it, and you just ate a traditional German lunch out by a lake. There's no need to act like everything is a crime. You're with me; you're free here."

Roderich turned away before Gilbert could see the look of shock that rolled across his features. He had never expressed how being around the Prussian made him feel unbridled and unchained, so how was it that Gilbert seemed to instinctively know what it was he needed to hear?

There was a loud splash behind him, and it took Roderich a moment to register that the only thing that could have made the noise was Gilbert. He turned over his shoulder, finding the edge of the dock empty save for their picnic basket, and instinctively he pivoted on his hip and found himself on his knees, leaning over the edge as his eyes scanned the murky waters for some sign of his companion.

"Oh God… Gilbert?!"

He looked further out in the water, towards the water's edge, and completely missed Gilbert's head as it poked back out from under the dock. Only when a hand circled his wrist and pulled did he realize he'd been fooled, and the scream of shock that escaped his lips was instantly muted as his gravity shifted and he tumbled, head-first, into the lake. Despite it being a hot day in Germany, the water was frigid and Roderich struggled to the surface, gasping for air as his teeth chattered and his arms swelled with goose bumps.

"You idiot!"

He tried to make his words sound as annoyed as he felt, but Gilbert's peals of laughter immediately broke down and blew away any discontentment he may feel, and he flicked his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head before using the motion of his legs to keep him afloat as he delivered swift retaliation in the form of a well-directed cascade of water. Gilbert immediately responded in kind, and for several minutes the calm of the afternoon was broken by laughter, well-intended playful insults, and the sound of splashing water.

When finally they wore themselves out and called a truce, Gilbert swam to the rickety ladder and hoisted himself halfway out of the water, turning back and reaching his hand out to Roderich. The Austrian paddled over and immediately took the outstretched hand, gasping when he was pulled up next to Gilbert and suddenly their lips were connected, the kiss hot and fast and perhaps just a little sloppy.

"… Gilbert… someone might see…"

"Let them look. I don't care what they think of us."

Even as he spoke, Gilbert drew away from him and then motioned for him to climb up the ladder first. Once they were on the dock and lying out in the sun, allowing the heat to dry their soaked clothes, Gilbert lolled his head to the side so he could give Roderich a smile.

"Come see me. Tonight, in the barn. If you sneak out the back kitchen door, no one will be the wiser. Come after midnight."

Roderich felt that he sound say no. It was too close to home, too close to where they could be caught. But one look in those tantalizing red eyes, one well-placed grin, and his heart melted into Gilbert's waiting hands.

"Okay."

* * *

The pictures had come out better than expected. As promised, Gilbert had posed for all three of them to Roderich's liking before they had made their journey to the lake. It was the 19th, and even though they had somehow managed to steal several nights during the course of his nearly two-week journey, it felt as though they had not seen each other in years. Roderich's skin burned with a strange need for Gilbert's touch, and the pictures were a poor (but appreciated) substitute for the warmth of his lover's arms.

The third picture was by far his favorite. Gilbert stood posed with one hand on a work shelf and the other crooked back near his shoulder, hammer at the ready as though he had been interrupted in the middle of a very important task. His arms were caked with dirt from the barn, his shirt hugged his muscled frame, and a half-smile decorated his face as his eyes peered out from behind the stray strands of hair falling in his face. Around his waist was tied a black summer jacket, and Roderich reached over into his suitcase to extract that very same jacket, cradling it against his chest as he buried his face into the soft material. It smelled of a lovely mesh of straw, horse, earth, and Gilbert. It brought back memories of a warm summer night, of stolen kisses and forbidden caresses in a quiet corner of the barn, and Roderich clenched his fingers in the soft material as tears of longing sprang into his eyes.

"… what are you doing to me, Gilbert?"

Forcing himself to brush the tears away, he set the jacket aside and picked up the other two pictures, looking them over. Gilbert was very photogenic, and made his work look as natural as breathing in the black-and-white still frames Roderich held in his hands. Gilbert, face smudged with dirt, carrying a load of lumber over his shoulder. Gilbert, leaning against a work ladder, hammer slung over his shoulder like a satchel, ever-present cocky grin stretching ear to ear.

Gilbert, who Roderich very much so feared he was falling ever deeper in love with.

It was late, and Roderich was tired. Today had been filled with catching up on work, practicing the piano, and entertaining his father's houseguests. His body and mind were here, but his heart and soul were back in Germany. It left him feeling drained, weary, and crushingly lonely. He tucked two of the pictures away amongst his sheet music and rose to his feet, quickly shedding his cravat, dress jacket and shirt, and pants. After carefully folding them and putting them away, he slipped into his night clothes and moved to the bed, pulling the covers back. The plush white sheets and fluffed pillows were in way inviting in comparison to the idea of a rough straw bed in a barn loft, but perhaps there was one way to make his sleeping arrangements more bearable, if only slightly.

Five minutes later, the lights were out and Roderich was curled up under the covers with Gilbert's picture clutched in his hand. Gilbert's black jacket had fit perfectly over one of his many pillows and he curled his arms around it, tucked his knees up against his chest, and allowed the alluring smell of his lover to lull him to sleep.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N. There may be a possibility that I will have to condense down another two scenes into one chapter, meaning there may be a chapter in which there will be two letters and two scenes from VandettA's CMV, giving us seven chapters rather than eight. I have not decided as of yet what I'm going to do, but rest assured that I will fit nearly every second of the video into this story.

Thanks for reading, thanks for your patience, and I'll have the next chapter done soon!


	4. Chapter 3

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**  


Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

A.N. I want it to be noted that with this chapter, I ended up writing an opening scene that did not occur in the original video. I needed to do this for flow and for continuity, as well as to offer explanation for later events that did occur in the video. No disrespect was intended to VandettA Cosplay or their original work, and I promise to do the best I can to keep directly to the CMV for the rest of the story. Thank you.

* * *

_"Now, Roderich... let's start the conversation with something easy. Tell me why you've decided to call me here to see you."_

_Roderich wanted to respond with 'because my wife is the one who made the call. __**I**__ certainly don't want you here', but he was somehow able to stifle the snide comment in exchange for one that was a bit more socially appropriate. _

"_Because I'm having some issues."_

"_Could you be a bit more specific for me?"_

_Under the table, Roderich curled his hands into fists and gripped at his pants so tightly his knuckles and fingers ached with the force. Elizaveta had been on the phone with this man for no less than an hour, so surely she had explained everything to him then. What was the point of making him go over everything the doctor undoubtedly already knew?_

"_... I'm having issues involving the recent death of a friend. His name was Gilbert. It was a suicide."_

_The words hurts to say, though he wasn't sure what hurt worse; 'suicide', or 'friend'. Maybe it was a bit of both. Whatever it was, the man before him apparently picked up on his distress, because he nodded to himself before jotting something down on the notepad in his hand. _

"_I see. Could you perhaps tell me some of the incidences that have led you to seek psychiatric evaluation and assistance?"_

_The Austrian licked his lips and glanced over at his wife, who gave him what he took to be a terrible attempt at a comforting smile. Things had been tense in the last few months, especially since their trip out onto the dock. Since then, Roderich had basically refused to leave the house and had taken to the bottle with a frightening sort of reckless abandon. He had done the best he could to hide his excessive drinking from Elizaveta, who up until three days ago had been surprisingly patient with his reclusive temperament and unspoken attraction to the bottle. Although his emotions and his temper had been on an extremely short leash since Gilbert's death, he had always managed to hide his anger and wear the perfect mask of cool indifference and pleasantry whenever he was around other people. It had therefore been surprising to him that her off-handed comment of running into Ludwig in the market had been the straw that had broken the camel's back._

"_Gilbert's brother Ludwig happened to catch up with me in the marketplace a few days ago and made comment that he wanted Roderich to come over to play cards at some point. My husband hasn't had much interest in going out, and he hasn't seen Ludwig since the funeral four months ago. I hoped that maybe the idea of seeing a friend, rather than having to leave the house for social gatherings and other obligations, would help Roderich start to take interest in interacting with others once more. He's always been quite the conversationalist, so it's been concerning that he's been so withdrawn and sullen."_

_Elizaveta had apparently taken his silence as an indication that he was lost for words and had subsequently filled in. An echo of the annoyance from three days ago flared up in his chest, but this time he was thankfully able to control it by biting his lip and digging his nails into his legs until he felt the skin break. The doctor nodded and scribbled vigorously on his notepad once more, and it took everything Roderich had to not rip the pad from his fingers and shove it straight down his throat. _

"_Can you tell me what happened next, Roderich?"_

"_I told her I didn't want to go see Ludwig. I told her I didn't want to see anyone. Ludwig is a kind man, and I have always respected him, but I feel that it's too soon for me to venture out for social pleasantries. I still attend the required dinner parties and I play concerts when its requested of me. I feel that I should be permitted to sit in my home and grieve, when the time is available to do so."_

"_Roderich, it isn't just that I find so concerning. Darling, I've noticed that you've taken to the bottle quite a lot since Gilbert passed away. I had hoped that perhaps you would drop such a terrible habit after a few weeks, or maybe a month, but it's only gotten worse as time has gone on. I feel that I have been more than tolerant of it, but it's become too much lately for me to stay quiet about it."_

_His cheeks immediately flushed pink and he glared over at his wife, who gave him a stern look in return. This had been the match that had lit the fire of their argument a few days prior; the catalyst that resulted in this well-schooled American doctor being summoned from Berlin to make a private house call. The moment she had pointed out that she was not so blind to his drinking as he had hoped, his voice had raised in anger and hers had followed suit. It had started with the yelling and ended with a broken tea cup and Roderich crumpled in a ball against the wall, his head down in his arms to hide the tears growing in his eyes. Since he could barely afford the energy to get dressed most days, such an outburst had been much the same as the indignant wails of a child fighting their bedtime. It was fast, intense, and exhausting straight to the very core of his being. Eliza had immediately sunk down to his level, wrapped her arms around him, and begged him through her own tears to allow her to call in a psychiatric specialist from America that was practicing in Berlin. Too ashamed of his own actions to resist, he had given in and agreed to the meeting. _

_Now, two days later, sitting before his wife and this complete stranger and feeling as though he was being mercilessly ganged up on, he was starting to regret that he had caved in so easily. _

_He wanted to deny that he had an issue, but he already knew that would fall on deaf ears. Elizaveta had figured it out, intuitive and observant woman that she was, and lying about it would only make the situation worse for both of them. There had been a strange sort of a tension buzzing between them over the past few months, and it had grown to a near-crushing level in the days following his outburst. After losing Gilbert, he couldn't afford to lose her as well. Even if he did not love her, and never would, he could not deny that he needed her to be the stronghold that grounded him. He needed her to support him, though he knew he should be the one supporting her. _

"_... I would suppose that I have taken to drinking a bit more than is healthy. Given the circumstances, I feel that it's only natural."_

"_It's normal to feel that way, but you have to understand that your addiction is unhealthy. Your wife was right to call me in on this. Death is a hard thing to deal with, but your case is not normal. If Gilbert's brother was able to overcome his passing and begin to move on with his life, that means that you should be able to as well. Grieving is natural, but you've become stuck in one of the five natural stages of loss. I'm going to provide you with a prescription for Rivivol. The pharmacies here in Germany don't carry it yet, but I have a supply in my office in Berlin and I'll send you a 30-day supply at the first of every month. It may make you feel a bit sick at first, but once the side-effects die down, I think you'll notice a change. It's been working wonders on patients all over the United States." _

_The idea of being medicated was appalling to him. He didn't even like the idea of using smelling salts for feeling faint, or taking Aspirin or Bufferin for a headache or cold symptoms. What made this man think that he wanted to take a medication he had never heard of that Germany had not given approval to yet? _

_Assuming the conversation was over, the doctor reached over for the bag sitting at his side. As he started to look through it, examining the labels on several different glass bottles of varying sizes, Roderich felt the warm touch of Elizaveta's hand over his own. He glanced up at her, relieved to see her usual charming smile on her face. _

"_Thank you for doing this. I know you don't want to, but I'm confident that this doctor knows what he's talking about. He's won many awards in America for his studies and has helped many people in Germany. I would not have called him if I did not trust that he would take care of the man I love."_

_Roderich smiled thinly and placed a hand over hers. After a few more moments in which the quiet of the room was broken by the sound of clanking glass bottles, the doctor produced a small black bottle with typewriter print on its pink label. Roderich accepted the bottle with a nod and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket, settling back in his seat. _

"_Let me know if there are any adverse reactions, or if the symptoms do not get better within the next three weeks. You can expect headaches, some upset stomach, and sleepiness as your primary side-effects. If they don't fade within a month, please feel free to contact me directly." _

"_Of course. Thank you, Dr. Anderson. We do appreciate your time and patience." _

_So he had a name after all. Roderich hadn't cared to ask what it was, though he was sure that Eliza had known that information all along. The doctor said something in reply to his wife's words before rising from his seat and tipping his hat. As was her way, the Hungarian woman stood as well and insisted on showing their guest out, refusing to take no for an answer. _

"_Roderich, I'll meet you in the sun room in a few minutes with a pot of tea. Make sure to bring your medication with you so you can start taking it." _

_He nodded obediently, watching as Anderson and Elizaveta disappeared out the parlor door. He listened carefully for the sound of their footsteps receding down the hallway, and once he was sure they were out of hearing range and sight, he was immediately out of his seat and on the move. Making sure to avoid all the boards in the hallway that were chronically noisy when stepped on, he made his way down the back hallway, through the kitchen, and into the bedroom they shared. He shut the door and then pulled open his bedside drawer, rummaging through stacks of sheet music and a few personal odds and ends before he came upon a large green bottle of Aspirin. The pills had to be years old and completely ineffective by now, but that wasn't his concern. Taking an expired Aspirin had to be far better than any pill some egotistical, self-important crack pot from America tried to force down his throat. This man had known him for all of an hour, and suddenly he felt as though the answer to Roderich's depression lie in a bottle of pills? If the Austrian were to have his way, and he __**would**__ have his way, he would make sure he never took a single one of those pills. _

_He made quick work of dumping the large white pills out of the black bottle, counting out exactly thirty Aspirin, and then swapping the two out. He stashed the green bottle at the bottom of the drawer, pleased to note that it still had more than enough room to hold several more months' worth of Rivivol, and then slipped the black bottle back into his pocket before he rose from his seat and calmly moved through the house towards the sun room. _

"_Roderich, where are you?"_

"_I'm here, Eliza. Sorry, I was looking for something in the bedroom."_

_He calmly took a seat across from her, accepting a cup of tea with a smile. Before she could ask him to take his new medication, he produced the bottle from his pocket, placed one tablet in his mouth, and obediently swallowed. She smiled at him from her place across the table, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it. _

"_Thank you. I know you don't like taking medication. This will make you feel better, I promise. Dr. Anderson is a good man, we can trust his judgment."_

_He smiled thinly, trying to push back the voice in his head that whispered words of shame at his deception. Never had Roderich imagined that it would come to this; that he would be a shell of his former self, an alcoholic and a liar who swapped out his pills and vowed to become better at hiding his addiction rather than working to extinguish its flames. But, then again, he never saw himself mourning the suicide of the man he fell in love with, either. He never saw himself marrying a woman he didn't love because that was what society demanded he do. In some way, because the world had failed him, he now had to take solace in what little control he was afforded. _

"_Of course. You've never had bad judgment before, Eliza. Now is certainly no exception." _

_Eliza smiled and released his hand, picking up her book and opening it. Roderich followed suit, cradling the first edition of his favorite novel in his lap, staring beyond the words as his mind wandered to the next time he would be alone, and the next time he could lose himself at the bottom of a bottle._

* * *

__**Gilbert,**

**Would you like to go out dancing some time? I know a great place in Graz – I know, it's pretty far but when I say "great" I mean great. If you don't want to then that's fine, I don't expect you to know how to dance (uncultured swine). **

**Said in the most loving way possible. **

**And for heavens sake NO I'm not getting into any weird outfits. You're disgusting and impossible. I do I even know you.**

**Okay fine.**

**Yours,**

**Roderich**

* * *

****"... a card game at your brother's house? I thought we were going dancing."

They were lying together in a disorganized heap of arms and legs, curled up contently under a thick wool blanket as just outside the window the wind howled, a sure sign that summer was long gone and fall was descending down into winter. Roderich had arrived in town late the night before and had checked into his room at a local hotel, barely able to get himself organized before Gilbert practically pounded the door down in his single-minded focus to get to him. It had only been two months since last they saw each other, but that span of eight weeks had felt like a span of eight eons to both of them, and they had indulged in each other shamelessly, now that they had the means to do so. Although Roderich was traveling under the intentions of looking for work in Germany, they both knew the real motivation behind his trip was to spend some much-needed time with his lover. That was the driving force that had convinced Roderich to rent a room at the hotel, rather than asking Eliza to house him for his week-long trip. Additionally, he felt as though his many stays in her home were starting to become burdensome (even though he knew she would not agree), and he felt as though it was time for him to carry his own weight and indulge in his own freedom in the process.

"I think it's getting a bit too cold to go dancing, don't you? I mean, I'm sure we could go to one of those boring dances your aristocrats think are so great, but that means I'd have to wear a suit and a tie and I'd have to spend the night watching you dancing with every lady that asks. I'm not sure I could stomach that. I'd rather go to an outside dance, and we lost our chances this year when the first frost happened two weeks ago."

Roderich frowned and sighed, admitting without words that Gilbert was right. His red-eyed lover would stick out like a sore thumb at a social event such as that, and it would be dreadfully boring and uncomfortable for the both of them. Although there was no place where their love would be considered okay, it was much more likely that it would be condoned at an outside venue with drinking and merry making than just about anywhere else in the country. The social pressures of post-World War II were strict and rigid, especially for someone of Roderich' noble-born class status.

"I've never met your brother. I'm a bit afraid to do so, I fear. What must he think of me, a high-bred man, keeping company with people who consider themselves commoners?"

"Ludwig is cool about stuff like that. He doesn't really let it bother him. His friend Feliciano's grandfather is a well-known politician in Italy, but those two seem to get along just fine. Unlike some people, Feliciano doesn't put so much importance on the fact that his family has a shit-ton of money."

Roderich wasn't sure if that last comment was supposed to be poking fun at him, but he let it go in light of the way in which Gilbert had used the word 'friend'. There was an implication there that was hard to ignore, and the Austrian turned a questioning gaze on his lover as Gilbert grinned in return.

"I'm just saying. Ludwig has his secrets, and I have mine. I can't confirm it, but they sure spend a lot of their time together. Kinda like you and me."

Assuming the conversation was over and the decision made, Gilbert nuzzled himself down into the covers and pressed a tender kiss to the soft flesh at Roderich's throat. The Austrian shivered in pleasure, burrowing himself against Gilbert's side and closing his eyes as he tried to wrap his head around the concept that there may very well be someone else like them out there. Another couple that was hopelessly in love, forced into silence at the idea that society may not only condemn them, but also persecute them.

"Don't stress about it, Little Master. You'll have a great time, I promise you."

Roderich wasn't so sure of that. But if there was one thing that he had in Gilbert, it was trust. Gilbert would never lead him astray, or present a situation to him in which he could not escape or would be in any form of danger. They would, of course, have to be careful with what they said and did around Ludwig and Feliciano, but since they had to be careful in any situation, this wouldn't be much different.

"So, what do you say? Ludwig wants us at the house around five for dinner before we play. He makes a mean wurst, maybe even better than mine. And that's saying something, because I excel at making wurst."

"... alright. I'm in."

"Awesome!"

"But you owe me a night of dancing for this. No questions asked, no complains about the setting. And I get to pick what you wear."

Gilbert pouted and huffed indignantly, pulling the sheets over his head.

"Compromising sucks! I knew I should have stuck with my plan to get a dog and live alone!"

As Roderich laughed, he could see Gilbert's shoulders shaking through the blanket in a silent laugh of his own.

* * *

"Do you drink whiskey?"

"Not usually, no. But I wouldn't mind giving it a try."

So far, Ludwig had proven himself to be nothing if not a gracious host. The first few minutes after their meeting had been awkward, mainly because the German man was so much larger than his (apparently older) brother, and seemed to have all of the seriousness that Gilbert lacked. Where Gilbert was loud and inappropriate, Ludwig was more soft-spoken and polite. Where Gilbert made a joke out of everything, Ludwig was very serious when he answered questions or posed any of his own. Still, he was not unfriendly, and after they had dined and cleared the table to start the card game, the man had finally started to loosen up a little and even gave Roderich a smile here or there when he would entertain the endless inquires about his home in Austria, his profession as a musician, and his friendship with Elizaveta.

Of course, it was not Ludwig asking the questions, but rather his friend Feliciano. Roderich had immediately recognized Feliciano as the kind man who had sold him his camera upon his last trip, but since the Italian didn't seem to share the same memory, he had neglected to find worth in bring it up. If Roderich had been able to guess what kind of friend the blond German man would keep company with, he never would have pegged someone who was so hyperactive and oblivious. The Italian was nice, but he was nearly as bad as Gilbert when it came to a blatant disregard for what was appropriate conversation amongst recently-acquired acquaintances. At the very least, in Feliciano's case, his behavior could be chalked up to cultural differences. Everyone knew that, short of France, Italy was the most liberal European country when it came to personal boundaries and expressions of love.

"So Gilbert says you come to visit fairly often. Are you courting your friend Elizaveta in hopes of marriage? She sounds like she would be one pretty lady!"

Roderich blushed brightly at the question as Gilbert coughed into his hand, warranting a confused look from Feliciano and a raised eyebrow from Ludwig.

"Well, my father wishes for me to court her and someday as for her hand in marriage. She is a lovely woman, and very pretty, but I have known her since we were children, and I do not harbor any form of feelings for her. If I am to marry, I would want to do it for love, not out of a preconceived expectation."

"Everyone should marry for love! In Italy, we believe that love is one of the most important things in life! It is like food for the soul! You would not want to eat a rotten tomato, because it could make you so sick! I would suppose that getting married to the wrong person would be much the same. At least, that's the way my grandfather thinks of it."

Ludwig returned to the table with four empty glasses and a tall bottle of whiskey, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Come now, Feliciano. Roderich did not travel all this way to speak of societal obligations and marriage. We invited him here for a night of cards and drinks. Not to mention, things are very different in Italy than they are in Germany and Austria. You should know that by now."

He passed a glass to each man at the table and poured them a good portion of whiskey, settling himself down in his seat next to Feliciano as he began to shuffle the deck of cards. Roderich took a sip of his whiskey, watching as Ludwig dealt each man seven cards and then wrote everyone's name on a pad of paper.

"The game is rummy. If you don't know how to play, Roderich, I suggest you learn quickly. Gilbert cheats."

"I do not! There is no way to cheat at rummy!"

"If it's a game, you'll find a way to cheat at it. You can fool everyone else here, but not me."

Gilbert grumbled something under his breath that no one caught as he scooped his cards up into his hands, looking over them with a critical eye before selecting a card from the deck and then discarding a seven of hearts.

For a few hours, the mood was light and then men talked casually. It took Roderich about fifteen minutes to learn the game, and about twenty to realize that Gilbert actually did cheat, but no one seemed to take it too seriously, and it was nice to find himself in an atmosphere where he could relax and feel a bit more free to speak his mind. They talked of the aristocratic life, Gilbert's job at Elizaveta's home, Ludwig's profession as a banker, and Feliciano's love of pasta.

Somewhere around his fourth glass of whiskey, Roderich dared to grab Gilbert's hand, locking their fingers together tightly. Gilbert glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye and smiled, but gave no further notice of his lover's daring move. By now they were all well and truly buzzed, and it was apparent that Feliciano and Ludwig would take no notice of the move if they were careful to hold their bodies in natural positions.

"Oh, Ludwig! Did I tell you that my brother Lovino fell in love and ran off to Spain?"

"You had neglected to mention that, Feliciano. Did he find himself a lovely senorita, as you would put it?"

"A man, actually. A Spanish deckhand who works on a boat that docked in Venice."

Feliciano made the statement as though it were the single most natural thing in the world to say, but within moments the mood had soured and an uncomfortable tension had filled the room. Ludwig's shoulders tensed up and his eyes narrowed slightly, though they did not move from where they were focused on his cards. Gilbert's grip on Roderich's hand tightened, and the Austrian glanced over to see that his lover's face had become completely unreadable.

"... that's hardly something appropriate to say, Feliciano. And I would suggest that you keep such information to yourself when you're in town. You know how things are around here."

Ludwig's voice was cold and his tone steely, and Roderich winced as if he himself had done something wrong. On instinct he attempted to pull his hand away from Gilbert's, shocked when the fingers wrapped around his own tightened to a nearly painful degree and Gilbert grunted softly under his breath. A look of confused hurt crossed over Feliciano's face, and he put his cards down so he could turn to look at Ludwig.

"I... I don't understand what I said that's so wrong."

An exasperated sigh escaped the blond's lips, but he put his cards down as well and turned to give his friend a comforting, if somewhat strained, smile.

"Things are different here, Feliciano. Germany is under the strict control of the church, and the church is very specific on its views of homosexuality. It is something we rarely speak of even during our services, and something we have all been raised to know is a sin of the worst kind. Even lying with your neighbor's wife is not as frowned upon as being gay is. I know that things in Italy are far more liberal, but you are not in Italy anymore. You are in Germany, and such talk can bring you nothing but trouble. It is okay if you wish to tell me such things, as I understand that you are not the same as Lovino, but other people will not see it that way. This is why I tell you so often that you must not be so open with what you discuss. People will not take it the way you mean it. You must also remember that Hitler had a huge hold on our country for a long time, and he punished the homosexuals just the same as he did the Polish. It was not right, what he did, but his ideals still echo through our land to this day."

Ludwig turned away from Feliciano to direct his attention to Gilbert, who glanced up at his brother through his bangs.

"Do you not agree, Gilbert? We were raised by a good and God-fearing Catholic mother, so we understand the way Germany works. We may have the constitution of 1949 that promises us freedom to choose our own religion, but that does not mean that religion is not important here."

Roderich had to keep himself from wincing when Gilbert squeezed his hand so tightly that he felt his fingers crack, though the Prussian's expression never changed. He did, however, put his cards down so he could fumble around in his pocket in search of something.

"... yeah. I suppose you could put it like that."

"What about you, Roderich? Were you not also raised in the church? I know that Austria was not so greatly influenced as Germany was by Hitler, but surely your parents raised you in some sect of Christianity?"

This entire conversation was making him extremely uncomfortable. Roderich felt as though Gilbert and he were two children that had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and now it was just a matter of making them sweat until one of them cracked and admitted to the transgression. Of course, Ludwig had no way of knowing that his brother was engaged in the very type of relationship he was condemning, but that did not make the conversation any less awkward. So much for Gilbert's theory that Feliciano was Ludwig's 'special friend'.

"... well... I..."

A waft of smoke passed under his nose and he immediately crinkled it up in reply, coughing and raising his free hand to wave the offensive odor away.

"Gilbert! I thought you gave up smoking! And what have I told you about smoking in the house?!"

Shocked, Roderich looked over to see Gilbert leaned back in his chair, idly puffing on a lit cigarette as though it were the single most natural thing for him to be doing.

"Come off it, Ludwig. This entire talk is bumming me the Hell out, and I've been drinking. All real men smoke when they've been drinking."

Just like that, the tension of their deep conversation was suddenly gone. Ludwig reached across the table to snatch the offensive cigarette from his brother's hand, and Gilbert look was suspiciously triumphant even as his treat was taken away and he was left to settle back in his seat, sighing softly. Ludwig doused the burning end in the sink and threw the soaking wet stick in the trash, glaring at his brother coldly.

"You have no manners, Gilbert."

"You need to lighten the Hell up, Ludwig. Now, don't we have a card game to get back to?"

* * *

"Don't mind Ludwig. He was always a momma's boy. Get a few drinks in him, bring up anything about religion, and he's suddenly a preacher. When he sobers up, he'll feel like an ass about it."

Roderich smiled, but the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. It was late, and Gilbert had finally forced them to call off the card game and sent his inebriated brother to bed and their Italian guest to the couch. Even though he himself was fairly drunk, Roderich was not comfortable sleeping in the guest room at Ludwig's home and had elected instead to head back to his hotel room. Gilbert, of course, had insisted he not go alone.

"He has a point, Gilbert. Homosexuality is not looked upon kindly in our culture."

Gilbert made a face as though he had been sucking on sour grapes, puckering his lips up and dropping his eyebrows.

"That shit is completely outdated. I like Feliciano's view on it better. Who cares what a man does in his own time, in his own home? It's no one's fucking business, if you ask me. That's why we have freedom from religion in this country."

"It's a nice idea on paper, Gilbert. It's entirely different in practice."

"You're starting to sound like Ludwig. I think I need another cigarette."

They entered the hotel and made their way up the stairs to Roderich's room. At the doorway they paused and Roderich turned to Gilbert with a sad smile.

"I wish you could stay."

"Me too. But Ludwig might fight it suspicious if I'm gone two nights in a row, and I have to be at Eliza's first thing in the morning for work. If I stay here with you, I won't get out of bed tomorrow at all. You have a strange power over me that makes it hard for me to leave your side."

He glanced around the hallway, making sure no one was around, before he dipped his head and pressed his lips against Roderich's. The Austrian hesitated for the briefest of moments before returning the embrace, bringing one hand up to push his fingers into Gilbert's soft hair.

"Don't dwell too much on what Ludwig said. It'll only give you a headache."

Roderich nodded and Gilbert smiled, giving him one last kiss before pulling away and promising to meet up with him for dinner after work. Roderich watched him disappear around the corner and listened to his footfalls recede down the stairs before he unlocked his door and slipped quietly into his room.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a single seed of fear had been planted.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N. The national constitution of 1919 and 1949 guaranteed freedom from faith and religion in Germany. The 1949 version also ensured no one was to be discriminated against due to their faith (or lack thereof).

Rivivol was a medication popular in the 1950s in America. It was originally used to treat tuberculosis and had the side affect of making people who took it unusually happy. It is a medication in the class known as MAOIs (Monoamine oxidase inhibitors), and was the first MAOI on the market.

Thanks for reading, thanks for your patience, and I will work hard to have the next chapter up soon!


	5. Chapter 4

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information

This chapter will contain an extremely graphic sex scene. If that's not your thing, don't read on.

One scene in this chapter was not in Whiskey Lullaby. As with previously added scenes, this scene was added in for continuity purposes and was in no way meant to disrespect VandettA Cosplay or their original idea.

* * *

Chapter 04

_Time passed._

_Roderich was not sure how much. He was sure, only, that time passed._

_ The pills came in the mail on the first of every month. Eliza always brought them to him, and he always made sure to trade them out and stash the Aspirin bottle full of Rivivol at the very bottom of his bedside table drawer. At some point, and he wasn't sure when, the green bottle became too full and he was forced to rummage through the closet until he found a much larger brown bottle to hide the medication his wife paid a pretty penny for and he never took._

_ At some point, it grew cold and dark. The holidays came and the holidays went. The whiskey came, and came, and came some more. He became the classic case of an individual suffering from a mix of depersonalization and amnesia; an entity that watched himself living, but forgot what had transpired because he could not be bothered to commit experiences to memory. There was only the whiskey, and the memories, and the dreams that haunted him at night forever and ever and ever, amen._

* * *

**Gilbert,**

**Travel through Germany?! Are you ****insane****?! How do you expect me to come up with a legitimate excuse for being gone for so long, absolutely ****NOT****. Big punctuation. (!)**

**Fine, I'm in. If anyone asks, I'm running errands, or visiting a relative across country.**

**I'm keeping this short because you're making me furious.**

**Slap yourself,**

**Roderich**

* * *

**Gilbert,**

**I'm sorry, I've been busy with work. Elizaveta came by this afternoon and offered me some tips on work, she knows I'm still looking for one near you. She's so sweet and caring, you'll like her once you get to know her I'm sure. And if you actually try to, which, I'm ****very**** sure you're not doing. Ugh, do you see how your horrible grammar infiltrates me? Go to school you dumb prick! Or at least listen to me.**

**I'm sorry but you know it's true.**

**Love you, after all,**

**Roderich**

* * *

Roderich sighed and tapped his foot impatiently, though the compulsive move was born just as much out of nervousness as it was out of agitation. Gilbert was late, which of course was no surprise. This scandalous rendezvous had been _his_ idea, after all; the least he could do was be on time.

This was, without a doubt, the single biggest risk that Roderich had ever undertaken. It was one thing to travel to Germany under the guise of visiting Elizaveta when he was actually going there to visit Gilbert, but flat-out lying to his family about visiting relatives in another part of the country was another matter entirely. He was an adult now, and more than able to make such trips on his own, but his job back in Austria was insanely hard to get time off from, and his father would have raised Cain if he knew that this was a trip for his own personal leisure rather than an impromptu family reunion. Perhaps the only thing working in his favor was that the relatives he was claiming to visit lived a very simplistic life, meaning they had no interest in keeping a telephone in their home. If his parents wanted to speak to him, they would have to either send a telegram or make the trip themselves. Omitting any kind of emergency, Roderich knew that either method of communication was considered a gross waste of time by both his father and mother.

How long had he been standing here waiting, anyway? It felt as though it had been forever, though that could simply be because it had been quite awhile since he had seen Gilbert and he was impatient and antsy as a result. It had been nearly two years since their sordid relationship had begun, and while they had managed to steal a few hours here or even a night there, most of their relations had been conducted through letters and coded glances and touches that no one else had picked up on. Even though Germany was finally starting to come out of Hitler's stronghold, which had actually ended nearly ten years ago, his blind hate had soaked the earth like a bloody poison and had infested everyone who dared to walk on it. The Jews were finally able to start living their lives without a cloud of constant fear hovering over their heads, but the same could not be said for homosexuals. The church, recognizing the need for the country to have something to cling to in the wake of World War II, had stepped in and acted as the salve needed to drive the poison from the land and its people. Unfortunately, their ideals did not support any form of homosexual lifestyle, and in fact only served to worsen conditions for those who had no control over how they were born and who they fell in love with. Roderich did not understand why it was such a problem, especially because he had always believed God loved without judgment, but he understood all too well that society had expectations, and the vagrant road was paved with dangers and misfortunes for those who dared walk it in broad daylight.

Roderich checked his watch again, then shifted his weight from right foot to left, sighing softly. Where _was_ that idiot? If he was this late to his job, it was a miracle that he had managed to work for Elizaveta's family for as long as he had. Either he was more prone to punctuality when it came to his employment, or Eliza permitted him to get away with everything short of murder. Knowing Gilbert, and knowing Eliza, Roderich suspected it was more of the second than the first.

There was a flash of stark white at the corner of his vision, and he barely had time to gasp before he was suddenly engulfed in a pair of strong, familiar arms. Instinctively he burrowed his face down and into the comforting scent of Gilbert's worn leather jacket, his arms coming up to lock around his lover's torso and his fingers gripping at his shoulders. After a moment, he remembered that they were in a public place and pulled back slightly, slapping Gilbert soundly on the back in a fashion befitting brothers or childhood friends.

"You're late."

"I know. I'm sorry. The train had to make an unexpected pit stop to rush a woman who went into labor off to hospital, so we were held up. Why someone who's nine months pregnant took was traveling, I have no idea. Sounds stupid, if you ask me."

Roderich was very sure that no one on that train had asked him, and he was almost as sure that Gilbert had been more than willing to give his opinion, but he kept this though strictly to himself as he pulled back to take in the sight of his lover's face. The long hours of working outside had done little to taper even some of Gilbert's pasty-white complexion, but that was nothing new. He looked a little worn down and tired, as though he had been putting in long work days and sleeping very little, which caused Roderich's brow to crease with concern and compelled him to reach up and brush a strand of hair out of Gilbert's eyes.

"You look tired."

"I don't travel well. Trains are cramped, uncomfortable, and usually filled with smokers. I'm amazing you somehow manage to do it."

"I offered to send you the money to get yourself a first-class ticket in a non-smoking cart. The food is better as well. Why didn't you accept my offer?"

Gilbert shrugged and smiled, entertaining his hands by running them up and down Roderich's back in a slow, sensual manner that made the other man grunt softly in pleasure.

"I had the money to get a nicer car myself, but I worked extra hours because I wanted to make sure I had a little extra for our trip. You're always the one paying for everything, so I wanted to feel as though I was pulling my own weigh. Not to mention, what kind of a man would I be if I let you pay for such fancy things all the time?"

Roderich opened his mouth to object, then closed it again just as quickly. They were both creatures of pride, and it was likely that Roderich would react in the same manner if the roles were reversed. Besides, it had been entirely too long since they had last seen each other, and now was the time to indulge in their impromptu vacation and to be thankful for the fact that they were in a town where no one knew them. They would still have to be careful with their affections, but not nearly so much as when they met up on Elizaveta's plantation.

"… fine. I will concede you the tactical victory _this time_. But rest assured that you _will_ have much more pleasant accommodations on your trip home. And I will hear none of your silly objections."

Gilbert laughed, tightening his arms around Roderich before reluctantly letting him go and taking a step back.

"Come on then, Little Master. I left my things at the train station so I could come and find you, and I'm assuming you've already checked into the hotel. Before we lose too much daylight, there's something I want to show you."

* * *

The 'something' that Gilbert wanted to show him turned out to be a rusty, grown-over, out of service set of train tracks. They were a fair distance away from the town, and seemed out of place and awkward amongst the tall grass and towering trees of the forest. Roderich was a bit confused as to why this was so important that they had to rush to gather up Gilbert's things, drop them off without unpacking, and then immediately leave without stopping for so much as a snack or a cup of tea. Although he suspected that Gilbert's trip had been less comfortable, Roderich's trip had been longer in duration, and he had barely nibbled at the food provided to him by the train's staff, finding himself too anxious to eat without becoming ill to his stomach. He found himself ravenously hungry as a result, and seemed to have a harder time biting back on any developing annoyance when he realized his lover had brought him to a remote location in the woods that would not be serving him food.

"… train tracks? What are we doing here?"

"Don't sound so excited, Roderich. No, really, please try to control your joy. It's almost too much for me to handle."

The only thing that saved Gilbert from a searing reply was that Roderich could just barely pick up on the hint of disappointment and hurt that simmered under his biting sarcasm. If Gilbert were to ever come and visit him in Austria, the first thing Roderich would want to show him would be his piano room. He would want Gilbert to cast his eyes on the ivory keys, run his fingers over the sinfully smooth polish of the lid, hear the slight creak of the bench when he settled his weight on it. He would want Gilbert to hear him play, would want him to get swept up and carried under by the clear, resonating sounds as they bounced off the walls and reverberated through the room. He would want Gilbert to see the beauty that he saw, that he tasted and smelled and breathed and _was_, when he played.

Taking a deep breath to center himself, he reached out for his lover's hand and squeezed it, giving him a smile.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. It's beautiful, Gilbert. Thank you for showing me something so precious to you."

The look on the Prussia's face told Roderich that he was struggling to hold on to his annoyance, even as his cheeks tinged pink and a boyish smile slipped over his lips. Roderich turned and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and Gilbert eagerly swept him against his chest and returned the affections with unabashed passion.

"… thanks. I've always wanted to show this place to you, but I know how hard it is for both of us to get away. Ludwig's cool with me taking a trip, but it's a matter of making sure I have the money saved up and that the bills are paid. Beer doesn't pay for itself, after all."

"Indeed it does not. As for me, I have the resources, but I lack the freedom. I had to lie to my parents to be permitted to take the trip. That is not a nice feeling, I assure you."

Gilbert crinkled his nose up in disdain, and Roderich prepared himself for the harsh (but completely justified) comments he was sure were coming in regards to his parents. Even though he was well over legal age to take care of himself, and he was gainfully employed in Austria, it was custom in his family that the children remain at home until they either found work out of country or married. Roderich had been dutifully searching for employment in Germany since almost the day he had first laid eyes on his Prussian lover, but because its economy was still rebuilding from the war, more emphasis was placed on those with marketable skills than with artistic inclinations. He was an excellent piano player, of that there was no doubt. Unfortunately, his skills were much more coveted in Austria than in Germany, and until that changed, his hands were tied.

"… well, all you can do is just keep looking. You know I won't be going anywhere."

Gilbert's answer was decided sensitive, and Roderich showed his appreciation by bestowing upon him another long, lingering kiss.

"If you don't mind me asking, why is this place so special to you? It's beautiful, of course, but surely there must be something more to it than that."

For the longest moment, silence lingered between them. When Gilbert finally did speak, he had directed his attention away from Roderich's face and instead placed it on the railroad lines, which seemed to run to a near-forever in the distance and finally converged at a single, nearly undetectable, point.

"When I was little, I lived in this town. That was just before the war broke out, when things throughout the country were at least a little more peaceful. Ludwig and I used to play here while my dad worked and my mom stayed home and tended to things at the house. Ludwig was good at making friends in school, but I wasn't, so he was the only one I really had to play with. We spent hours out here, season after season. I can't tell you how many times I came home with bruises and scrapes from trying to walk the tracks like a tightrope."

He paused and licked his lips, and Roderich immediately sensed a shift in his mood. He reached down and found Gilbert's hand, squeezing it as an indication for him to continue.

"… when the war started, my dad was called to join the Nazi regime. He didn't want to, but we all know that those who were called to fight did not have the option of declining the invitation. We were ordered to move away and into the city. When my parents told me, I took off. I was probably around fifteen or so at the time, maybe a little younger. I came here, even knowing that they would know to look here first."

"… and?"

Gilbert swallowed heavily, and Roderich realized his lover was fighting back tears. He reached up and brushed his fingertips across Gilbert's forehead, making a soft clicking noise with his tongue intended to bring about some measure of comfort. Gilbert smiled weakly and laughed, though the noise was a decidedly broken one.

"Hitler had confiscated this railroad line to use to transport prisoners into the concentration camps. I'm not sure which camp this train line stopped at, but I know it was one of them. And I know that it was one of them because I saw one go by. I heard the people inside the carts crying out. I could hear children sobbing. I could hear people getting sick to their stomach from the cramped conditions. Some of them even saw me, and it felt as though their eyes were staring into me as the train went by. It felt like they were judging me, just because I lived in Germany and I wasn't boxed up like they were.

"At some point, my dad found me. When I told him what I had seen, he sat down with me on the tracks and explained the Nazi party and what it was they wanted to me. Up to that point, my parents had always tried to protect us from what was really going on. We knew a little, of course, only because we were German-Prussian children that were attending public school in Germany. But I hadn't realized until that point just how terrible Hitler's views were, or what they were doing to the rest of Europe. That was also when my father told me that it wasn't just the Jews and the Poles, but also the weak, the handicapped, the mentally retarded… and the homosexuals. I already knew that I had no interest in girls, and I knew that I was different from other boys, but that was when I finally knew what being like me was called. And I was disgusted that people like me were considered weak and inferior, when I knew I was anything but."

Gilbert sat down on the tracks and Roderich instinctively followed. They pressed their bodies close together, drawing warmth from each other as the sun dipped slightly below the horizon and a shadow was cast over their private spot, causing them both to shiver in an unexpectedly cool breeze.

"We moved away a few days later. My father served in the army, and my mother worked to support us. When the Allied forces invaded Germany and lay seize to Auschwitz, my father was killed in the ensuing fight. He died for ideals he didn't even believe in. A few years later, my mother followed him to the grave. Thankfully, by then I was old enough to start working and Ludwig was only a year away from being done with school. It was hard for a while, but we made it work. That's probably why I can't bring myself to move away from Germany, even though it would be easier for me to go live in Vienna than for you to find work here. My brother makes more than I do, and the house is in his name, but I just can't bring myself to leave him here alone."

"Your story is so sad, Gilbert, and I know it couldn't have be easy for you to share. If you don't mind, though, I have one thing I must know."

Gilbert smiled and ruffled Roderich's hair, kissing his forehead tenderly.

"Why would I want to come back to a place like this, after what I saw?"

Roderich nodded, lifting his head from where it rested on Gilbert's shoulder. His lover cast his warm red irises on him, and despite the deeply impacting story he had just shared, his eyes were completely dry. If anything, he looked as though he was at some form of peace.

"When I die, I want to come back here. I want my soul to stay here forever. Those people were killed over nothing more than being born a certain way. If I was a bit older, or if I lived an openly homosexual lifestyle, I could have been on that train with those people. If God really doesn't want homosexuals in heaven, then I'd rather stay close to the train tracks. Maybe people like me will come here when they die too. It'll be like our own heaven."

When Gilbert was finally done speaking, Roderich found himself rendered completely speechless. He had never believed Gilbert was an idiot, despite the many times he accused him of being one, but such a deep and philosophical viewpoint was never something he would have expected from his lover. He had come to believe that he would never know more about Gilbert than he already did, mostly because he felt there was nothing more to learn. They had exposed so much to each other that it was hard to think there could be anything else they hadn't divulged.

Roderich curled himself ever closer to Gilbert's side, lifting his head to press his lips against his throat.

"Thank you. For sharing this place with me."

"It only makes sense that I would. No need to thank me for doing what's sensible."

"Why do you say that?"

Gilbert laughed and Roderich lifted his head to glance up at his lover. The fading light of day cast a pallet of warm pastels behind Gilbert's head, making his skin glow and accenting his perfect red eyes. Roderich found himself breathless, lost in the masculine beauty that was Gilbert Beilschmidt. And when Gilbert spoke his next few words, the Austrian was so overcome with emotion that he openly wept with unvoiced reverence.

"If I die first, you need to know where to find me. And if you die first, you need to know where to wait for me. This is our place now."

* * *

Roderich wasn't sure exactly where the last two wonderful weeks had gone. There had been fishing trips, and lunches at quite cafes. There had been picnics, and horseback riding, and laxy days spent down by the river that flowed on the outskirts of town. There had been a vernal solstice festival. He had played the piano for Gilbert in a small tavern, and Gilbert had barely held in his tears until they were alone and safe in their hotel room. There had been a lot of laughing, a little bit of crying, a fair amount of drinking, and an overflowing abundance of passion. It amazed Roderich that he went to bed every night with his jaw aching from smiling so much.

"I don't want to go tomorrow. I don't ever want to go back there."

"Don't think about it, Roderich. It will spoil the last night."

Gilbert was right, of course. Roderich gave his lover far too little credit when it came to the matter of right and wrong, because when it all boiled down to the bare bones of most situations, Gilbert was usually right. It was perhaps a mix of pride and awkward flirtation that kept Roderich from admitting that fact to his lover most of the time.

"... your hands are so warm..."

Roderich was naked as a newborn babe, sprawled out in a boneless mass on the bed. Gilbert hovered over him, his strong arms positioned on either side of Roderich's head, his own nude form pressed against the Austrian's at the bellybutton, the pelvis, the thighs, the knees. The room was uncomfortably hot for mid-spring, but it was easy to identify the culprit as the passionate, reckless making out and touching they had been doing for hours now. As much as they wished to open the window and let the cool air in, both knew it wasn't a good idea. Even in a town where no one knew them, they could not afford any risk that they would be caught. If one of them became to loud (and it would be Roderich, because it was _always_ Roderich), it could spell disaster for them both.

"Mmm. Are you ready?"

"Always."

The hand that rested at his stomach line dipped itself steadily lower, snaking down the side of his hip and drawing slow, sensual patterns on his skin with heated fingertips. He whimpered and then moaned quiet approval, crying out softly when that same hand enclosed itself around his throbbing member, curling in just enough to apply pressure while still remaining loose enough to prevent discomfort.

"T-that's good and ready, I promise. Preparation there is not needed."

Gilbert chuckled softly and shook his head, giving Roderich's cock a few healthy pumps and reveling in the gasps of delighted pleasure the motion produced.

"Patience, Little Master. You never seem to have patience, when it comes to sex."

"Well, stop being so damn good at it then. That is hardly my fault."

A little healthy ego-stroking never did any harm when dealing with Gilbert, and the comment had its desired effect. His hand slid away and Roderich released a soft, shuddering breath, watching as Gilbert reached out from under the covers and retrieved the container of petroleum jelly from where it rested on the bedside table. He lifted himself up on his knees just long enough to remove the cap and slather his fingers with the slippery substance, and then he was hovering over Roderich once more as his hand disappeared under the covers.

"Relax. I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't be stupid. You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

For some reason, and Roderich could never quite understand why, it never hurt when Gilbert entered his body. When he was younger, he had tried touching himself there a couple of times. Whether he used any form of lubrication or attempted it with dry fingers, it always hurt so badly that he had to stop before he was even halfway inside himself. His previous experiences had dictated his future anxiety, and it had been nearly six months into their relationship before he would allow Gilbert to touch him there. There had been the expectation of pain, so it had been a pleasant surprise when there had been mild discomfort at worst, even when his Prussian lover slipped his fingers away and slid himself inside Roderich instead. He had spent hours pondering why exactly that was, but in the end had decided that the reason didn't matter. Gilbert's touch was perfect, and that was all he needed to concern himself with.

Despite the heat of the room, Gilbert's fingers were cold as they carefully pushed their way inside him, working deftly at the tight ring of muscles and coaxing them to start to loosen up and spread out. Roderich arched his back as one hand slid down to cup over Gilbert's, applying pressure in an unspoken indication that he wanted those fingers to slide deeper. They gave him what he wanted, pushing in further, brushing their tips against that delicate little spot that always made him –

They made the briefest of contact and Roderich squealed in delight, bucking his hips up off the bed as his free hand gripped at the sheets and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Gilbert withdrew and pushed in again, this time so far that he actually felt that delicate spot shift and then pop in response. His penis twitched and then began to leak a small, steady stream of pre-cum, and he eagerly thrust his hips down and in as Gilbert's fingers rose up to meet the motion.

"… Gil… I can't… I…"

"Shh. I know. I know you're ready."

The fingers slid away and Roderich groaned in frustration, struggling to rise up to a sitting position as Gilbert's comfortable weight left his body to retrieve the petroleum jelly once more. He watched, transfixed, as the Prussian slathered himself with a healthy dose of the lubricant, giving himself a few test strokes to ensure that he was properly covered. He indicated that he was ready by moving to the edge of the bed and taking a seat, opening his arms as Roderich spread his cheeks and slid onto him, leaving them back to chest with the Austria's legs dangling and his toes barely able to brush the floor.

Their movements started slow, a sensual dance and a gyration of hips as they struggled to fall into a synchronized rhythm. Roderich was always just a bit too fast and sporadic and Gilbert was always a bit too sluggish and clumsy, but as the room was filled with the sound of labored breathing and the temperature rose steadily higher, they found the tempo of an erotic salsa dance and willing succumbed to its rapid beat. Roderich squeezed his thighs around Gilbert's muscular legs and locked his ankles together just behind his lover's knees, pressing the palms of his hands into the mattress for balance as he arched his back and tipped his head so his neck was supported by Gilbert's shoulder. A strong arm snaked around his waist and then slid up his chest, fingers fondling one pert nipple as a second hand dipped down between his legs and took a hold of his swollen, throbbing cock, pumping it in perfect counter rhythm to their thrusting.

Roderich wished that he had the ability to form words in a moment such as this one. If he could, he would have done his best to describe to Gilbert how making love to him was like coming home. It was like being immersed in a fluffy blanket, or submerging oneself in a steaming hot bath, or laying out in the sun on a rare warm day in winter. It was everything comforting, everything safe and secure, everything that people took for granted in the hectic pace of their everyday lives.

When his body buckled and caved under the weight of pleasure, it was an explosion. There was a flash of white behind his eyes, every muscle locked into immobility, and a strange sort of an electric heat coursed over his skin, making every inch of him straight down to his toes and into his fingers tingle with the effect. He wasn't sure if he screamed or simply whimpered, but the moment his muscles were mobile once more, he collapsed in a rubbery, shivering heap against the strength of Gilbert's chest. His gravity shifted and he was aware of Gilbert rolling them onto the bed, a fluid motion that served to keep them continually linked together. Roderich found himself on his stomach, his hands pushed under the pillow, his face turned to the side and his back arched upward as Gilbert pounded into him. This motion was rough, fast and without rhythm, and it served to instantly wake his body back up and bring him back to an immediate erectness once more.

"… Gil… God…"

Gilbert laughed, though the noise was weak and breathless, and Roderich somehow found the energy in his trembling body to return the harsh thrusts with a few of his own, sensing in the quaking of Gilbert's thighs against his cheeks that his lover was close to his own release.

When Gilbert came, Roderich did as well. As the Prussian's seed filled him and then overflowed, a second jolt of electric ecstasy flowed across the delicate plane of Roderich's skin. This time, however, it brought with it a slight aching and then a soothing numbness. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow, struggling to catch his breath, his chest heaving and shudedering as he became aware for the first time that his face was hot with tears.

"Hey, hey… what's wrong?"

Gilbert slid out of his body and immediately laid himself out on the bed next to Roderich, gathering the petite man into his arms and running his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. The Austrian curled himself into Gilbert's chest, his fingers coming up to grip at the cross necklace his lover always wore, finding some form of comfort and grounding at the feeling of the cool metal at his palm.

"… why don't you sleep for a bit? I'll wake you up soon."

He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss a single moment with his lover, because the moments were dwindling down towards zero and he had no idea when they would have time like this again. But he was so tired, and there was something about crying that exhausted him further still, and he gave in to his body's demand for rest and slipped down into a lucid sort of a half-sleep.

* * *

When he awoke, it was still dark outside. He was on his back, his nude form covered by the blankets and the comforter, and the smell of clean linin indicated to him that at some point Gilbert had managed to change the sheets without disturbing him.

"… Gilbert?"

"I'm right here, Little Master."

Roderich tilted his head to the left to see Gilbert sitting at the edge of the bed, a towel slung over his shoulders and the moonlight catching the last few drops of moisture in his hair.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Not too long. Maybe an hour. I was going to wake you up once I was done drying off."

Roderich nodded, reaching one hand out from under the covers towards Gilbert. The Prussian smiled and took his hand, discarding the towel on the floor in favor of worming his way under the covers so he could lay at Roderich's side.

"You cried, after we were done. Do you wanna talk about it?"

Roderich shook his head, embarrassed to have had such a reaction to their lovemaking, and even more discomforted by the idea that he had no idea why he had broken down in the first place. He suspected that it had something to do with the realization that come the morning light, it would be quite a while before they could steal time like this again.

"… why do you wear that cross, Gilbert? I thought you hated the Nazis."

Gilbert looked surprised at the sudden shift in topic, but he took the unspoken cue for what it was and reached down, fingering the necklace idly.

"A lot of people don't know this, but this cross was actually created by the Teutonic Knights. When they settled in Prussia, the cross stuck and became a part of its culture. So, really, it's the Nazis that stole the cross from us. I wear it to honor what it really represents."

He paused for a long moment, his eyes becoming distant as his fingered the smooth metal. Finally, as though coming to some form of private conclusion or decision, he sat up and slipped the necklace over his head, turning to Roderich with a smile.

"I want you to have it."

Surprised at such a sudden decision, Roderich sat up and eyed Gilbert for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

"… I couldn't. I'm not Prussian, and I know how much that cross means to you."

"I want you to have it, Roderich. Maybe it will make you think of me. Maybe it will bring you some measure of comfort, when you're missing me."

He wanted to object and make mention that he had pictures, and one of Gilbert's summer jackets, and all the letters they had written to each other. But as his lover slipped the necklace over his head and he felt the softness of the worn twine and the cool metal against his bare chest, he found that he couldn't say no.

"… okay. But I want you to take something of mine, and I will stand for no objections."

He crawled out of the bed and crossed the room, opening the closet and searching through the vests and shirts hanging up until he located what he was looking for. Returning to Gilbert's side, he pressed his pocket watch into the man's waiting palm, giving him a smile.

"I know it's not as good, but I hope it brings you comfort too."

Gilbert reached out and wrapped his arms around Roderich, practically dragging him back into the bed. The Austrian laughed as suddenly he found himself under Gilbert's body, the covers flung haphazardly over his lover's back, cascading over his body and creating a safe, warm cocoon.

"It's just as good. It's even better."

Gilbert's hand came up to stroke at Roderich's cheek, tracing the contours of his jawline as his head dipped down and his forehead touched the bridge of the Austrian's nose. Instinctively Roderich lifted his arms up and wrapped them about his lover's shoulders, one hand caressing the well-defined muscles at Gilbert's shoulder blades.

"I love you, Roderich."

"I love you too, Gilbert. Forever and forevermore."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N.: Thank you to everyone for their patience in waiting so long for this chapter. School got in the way of a lot of my fanfiction productivity, and with an anime convention coming up in two days, I wanted to get this done before I went AWOL for Nan Desu Kan.

The information Gilbert provides about the Iron Cross is true, but rarely taught in history classes. Additionally, petroleum jelly was created in the late 1800s, so it worked perfectly for this story.


	6. Chapter 5

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

* * *

Chapter 05

_At some point, when the world started to defrost and the sun started to come out for just a little longer each day, Elizaveta became insistent that they attend church on a constant basis. She had made some comment about how becoming closer to the Lord would heal all wounds, but Roderich hadn't been paying enough attention to really absorb what she was saying. Although he had no interest in stepping foot into God's house, there was still a lingering trace of guilt at lying to her about taking his pills that was always able to break through the whiskey-induced continuous fog he lived in, and so he had donned his best suit without objection and allowed her to take him arm as they stepped out together for the first time in months._

_The sermon was pleasant enough, all things being considered. The priest spoke about the end of times and the Second Coming, but thankfully strayed away from the topic of homosexuality. If that had come up in a negative light, Roderich wasn't sure how he would have handled it. Still, knowing that Gilbert had rejected all forms of religion made him feel even more the traitor and sellout than he already had for several months. He didn't belong in a place like this, and even though those around him did not notice this fact, Roderich felt as though it was glaringly obvious. If the eyes of God really were looking down upon him in this moment, the Austrian found himself wondering what the Lord was thinking of him. It undoubtedly could be no worse than what he thought of himself._

_When the service was concluded and Roderich had taken some time to say hello to some of the people in town he had become a stranger to, Eliza brought him his spring blazer and gently took his hand in her own._

"_I'm proud of you, Roderich. I know how hard leaving the house has been for you. I feel that attending church every week will help even more than your medication has been. You've seemed a bit more at peace these past few months, but today you actually smiled. I think that going back out into the community, even if only for a few hours, will make a world of difference."_

_Roderich was surprised and a bit ashamed to hear that she thought he was getting better. The pills had been stashed at the bottom of his bedside table drawer for at least six months now, and on the first of every month, they went through a rapid reproduction period and approximately thirty more added themselves to the mix. His drinking had gotten no better, but at least she hadn't noticed that fact. He was careful to drink when she was asleep, when she was out at the market, when she was visiting her family, and was accumulating quite a sizable stash of empty bottles at the back of the wine cellar. If there had been any improvement in his mood, it could be attributed to some form of placebo effect taking place in Eliza's mind. She believed he took the pills, therefore she believed he got better. Once again she was subconsciously choosing to be completely blind to both his issues and his suffering._

_As they stepped out into the warm spring air and made their way around the back of the building to where Eliza's driver was undoubtedly waiting to pick them up, Roderich happened to glance at the wall that ran parallel to them. A single poster had been affixed to the cold stone, adorned with an image of an upper-class heterosexual pair standing together with the steeple of an old church in the background. Four ruby-red words stood out in stark contrast to the black-and-white imagery, proudly proclaiming 'Homosexuality is a sin!'._

_For one moment, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. His throat became tight and the dampness of unshed tears pushed at the backs of his eyes as though they were prisoners fighting against the bars of their cell for release. He felt the confident stride of his gait falter for the briefest of moments, and he lifted a hand to chest to catch his breath as though he were in a room void of oxygen. He felt Eliza react at his side, shifting her form to turn and put an arm up as though to catch him, even though he wasn't falling._

"_Roderich?"_

"_I'm fine. Sorry, I must have just caught the toe of my shoe on a rock or something."_

_Her eyes darted to the poster on the wall and then up to his face, and for the briefest of moments, something akin to understanding flashed through her eyes. Then it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared and she smiled softly, linking her arm in his._

"_They really need to maintain this sidewalk a little better. The last thing anyone needs is to trip and hurt themselves, especially with summer coming. Let's get home and I'll make us some lunch."_

_It was rare that Eliza cooked these days, even though she had the skills to do so. Her family's cook had been coming to the house more and more to make meals while Eliza spent her time at her husband's side, forever keeping a critical eye on him even though she attempted to make it look as though she were engrossed in her book or working diligently on knitting a blanket. Neither one of them were fooled, but neither one of them dared to break the oppressive silence to address the elephant that had taken up permanent residence in the room. Her offer to cook was a half-hearted attempt at trying to return things to some form of norm, even though there never really had been a normal moment in their marriage. His proposal had been rushed and awkward, their wedding had been far too extravagant for either of their tastes, and then just a few months later –_

_Roderich returned her smile with one of his own, though he imagined it appeared more as a grimace than a smile. If he stopped to think about last summer for too long, he may risk attempting to drink the moment they arrived home, a move that would surely blow his cover._

"_That sounds wonderful. You make an absolutely splendid shepherd's pie."_

* * *

"_I heard from Mrs. Brunkow today that her daughter is with child. The doctor thinks it may be twins."_

_Eliza's comment came out of the blue, though Roderich was not surprised by that. He glanced up at her over the top of his paper, then calmly reached out for his cup of tea, taking a slow sip._

"_I see. I'm sure Emma is quite thrilled; from what you've told me, they've been trying for a baby for months now. It seems fitting they would be blessed with two for their efforts."_

_He attempted to make his voice sound light and careless, but he could tell in the way she winced and then put her paper aside to look at him head-on that his tone had been anything but warm._

"_Roderich… I think we need to have a talk. My parents have been relentless with their inquires about when they can expect grandchildren of their own, and I know your mother would adore having a grandchild to dote on whenever she comes to visit us. Your father is fairly neutral on the subject, of course, but I'm not sure how much longer I can avoid discussing it with the others."_

_The idea of having children made him sick to his stomach. He had barely tolerated children even when he himself was a child, and they had never been something he considered part of his life plan. Not only did he prefer to keep sexual company with other men, but being a musician did not afford a person much time to nurture a family. Even if (or when) he could bring himself to eventually give her the children he knew she so desperately wanted, he would scarcely be around enough to help her raise them._

"_Now isn't a good time. You know that."_

"… _it hasn't been a good time for an entire year, Roderich. We were wed last spring, and yet we've never…"_

_She trailed off and sighed, and even though he felt a crushing guilt at being reminded that they had never so much as consummated their marriage, he could not help but feel an even more powerful sense of relief that she hadn't actually finished her sentence. He was painfully aware that in marrying her, he may very well have robbed her of any chance of having a family. Even if he were to divorce her, society did not look kindly upon a woman who had been wed before and was looking to wed again, unless of course she was now available due to recently becoming widowed. He would like to think that he had merely been planning to wait until the height of his music career had come and gone before giving her children, but the sad truth of the matter was that it was not something he had even stopped to consider when he had asked her to marry him. At the time, all he could focus on was the idea that he had to protect Gilbert, even if protecting him meant breaking his heart. The realization that he would be expected to give her children, and thusly expected to bed her, hadn't hit him until shortly after their wedding. At that time he had been confident he could work himself up to the task, but Gilbert's suicide had effectively destroyed his ability to so much as kiss his wife, let alone to contemplate having sex with her. It felt to much like he would be betraying Gilbert's memory, and that was something he could not bring himself to do._

_He wanted to be honest with her. He wanted to sit her down, take her hands, and tell her why he had married her. He wanted to share his role in Gilbert's death. He wanted to share the secret of the love they had shared, because these last nine months had felt like nine years, or nine, decades, or nine eons, or nine __**forevers**__ that had somehow become so tremendously __**lonely and unbearable**__ because he had suffered them __**alone**__…_

_But he didn't. He didn't, because he couldn't. He had wagered everything, and he had subsequently lost everything, but a childhood being raised with the belief that he must always have his reputation, if nothing else, ensured that he continued to put off an air of superiority and control. Roderich was in control of nothing, but he had to make it appear as though he had control over everything. Appearances were everything, because they were all he had left._

"_I know, dear. I'm sorry. Gilbert's death has been hard on me, and I have unfortunately passed that hardship on to you. It is unfair, but it was unavoidable given that we are husband and wife. Things are getting better, and I have faith they will continue to do so. I beg you, please give me a little more time. If we were to conceive now, our baby would be born in the darkest months of the year, and you know that infant mortality is much higher in winter. Let us wait until our child can be born in spring or summer, and then perhaps we may give it a try."_

_His empty words were a promise he was not sure he could keep, but like a miracle salve bought out of the back of a street peddler's dilapidated cart, the hope of a wish being granted brightened Eliza's face and lifted the burden of the unknown from her shoulders. She smiled at him and then reached across the table for his hand, cradling his cool palm against her warm fingertips._

"_Thank you, Roderich. It eases my heart to hear you say that, and I understand the importance of waiting."_

_He smiled faintly and rose from his seat, pulling her to her feet and then leaning in to kiss her forehead tenderly._

"_I am glad. It is getting late, so you should turn in. I'll join you shortly."_

_She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to her own so she could press her lips against his. He encircling her waist and pulled her against him, praying that the tenseness in his stomach had not spread to encompass every inch of his body. Her lips were soft, and she was not what he would consider a bad kisser, but she was not Gilbert, and she never would be. That one fact alone made being this close to her all the more discomforting._

_She pulled away and smiled up at him before slipping out of his hold, collecting her tea cup and putting her newspaper aside before leaving the room. The moment she was out of both sight and earshot, he collapsed into his chair as though all the bones in his body were suddenly turned to liquid. He dipped his head down so his chin touched his chest, allowing his body to shudder with one lone, tearless sob. The day had been positively draining on what little physical and emotional energy he could afford it, and now he found himself bone-crushingly exhausted and craving the bitter bite of the whiskey to banish the pain. The softness of his sheets and the comfort of a cool pillow on his face would be just as inviting, if not for the nightmares he already knew would meet him at the nexus between consciousness and sleep._

_When her footsteps had moved from the kitchen to the bedroom and the rusty hinges had squeaked in confirmation that he was truly alone, Roderich rose from his seat to retrieve the bottle that would effectively allow him to waste the night away._

* * *

**Gilbert,**

**Fool, everyday you're on my mind. I'm sorry but you'll have to stop being so perfect.**

**No, I didn't mean that.**

**Are we still going camping? I need Thursday for a course, just so you know. Also, 'piercing' is spellt with an 'I' and a 'c'. You're now rolling your eyes at me but I'm serious.**

**I had an idea on our trip too, how about we don't camp, the forest is full of bugs and I have no gear.**

**No, I'm not scared.**

**Until next time,**

**Roderich**

* * *

"I thought we were going camping. Last time I checked, you didn't need to get all dressed up for camping."

Roderich sighed and shook his head as he handed Gilbert a white button-up shirt, placing his hands on his hips and setting his lover with an impatient glare.

"We talked about this. First off, I told you in my last letter that I don't want to go camping. The woods are full of all sorts of unsightly creatures, and I have no clothing to afford to such an undertaking. When you wrote me back, you agreed that perhaps we could find something else to entertain ourselves with during my visit. And we will, as soon as we handle this dinner party that Eliza's family is hosting."

"Okay, that still doesn't explain why _I_ have to be there. I'm certainly not an aristocrat like you. And I still say that if you faked sick she would let you out of it."

Gilbert's tone was short and his voice soft, an indication that he was obviously annoyed at having his private time with his lover so rudely interrupted. If Roderich had his way, this dinner party would not be something he would be in attendance at. This trip was supposed to be dedicated specifically to finding work in Germany, and any spare time he had was meant to go to Gilbert and no one else. What had changed all that had been a phone call from his father that Eliza's family was hosting a rather lucrative dinner party, and that Roderich was expected to be there to represent the Edelstein name. It was convenient for his family (and rather inconvenient for Roderich) that he just happened to be in Germany that same week, which saved his father the headache of accepting the invitation himself and simultaneously gave the old man an excuse for Roderich to spend time with Elizaveta. He had been progressively more forceful with the subject of marriage, insisting that the Hungarian woman was the best choice for his son and that Roderich should court her properly before another man had the chance to do so. It was getting harder and harder to worm his way out of that specific topic of conversation, which only made Roderich that much more desperate to find work in Germany. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could leave Austria behind and start his own life with Gilbert at his side. They would still need to be secretive, but simply being in the same town would afford them far more luxuries and privacy than they had now. For two men engaged in such a taboo relationship, it would be the closest to perfect that they would ever have.

"Remember when you were first hired here, and the master of the house told you that you may be called upon to perform other job duties outside of working in the stables? This is exactly what they mean. You may be a stable hand and carpenter by trade, but you have steady hands and a strong back that are sometimes needed to help serve food and entertain guests. That is what you have been called upon to do, and I am sure that every other employee on this plantation is in much the same boat."

"I don't want to serve food to a bunch of snobby jerks at a dinner party."

Roderich narrowed his eyes and Gilbert blushed brightly, dropping his gaze to focus on the task of buttoning up his dress shirt.

"... you should know by now that I don't mean _you_ when I say that, Roderich..."

Some of the hurt at Gilbert's words melted away and Roderich sighed softly, crossing the room to assist Gilbert with buttoning the cuffs of his shirt before he worked to tuck the hem into the black dress pants that appeared to be a size too large for his lover.

"I assure you, Gilbert, that the Hedervarys are probably just as horrified at the idea that you'll be in their home, serving their guests dinner, as you are at having to do this. Be thankful it's only one in a great while that dinner parties as extravagant as these are hosted. I know a few families in Austria that enjoy these types of ridiculous affairs on a weekly bases. Are these Ludwig's pants?"

"They might be. Someone as awesome as myself doesn't have any need to own fancy clothes. I work in a stable because I don't have to give a shit how dirty I get. If I wanted to serve people their food, I would have asked for that job when I was hired. And what do you mean, they're 'probably just as horrified'?!"

"Watch your language, Gilbert! Profanity such as that can get you fired!"

Gilbert rolled his red eyes in an overly-dramatic fashion, but wisely decided to stay quiet. Roderich huffed indignantly and finished his task of tucking in Gilbert's shirt, muttering under his breath as he shifted to adjust his lover's tie.

"I swear, do you always have to be such an uncultured swine? Go back to school, learn to apply language properly, and it wouldn't hurt you to learn how to spell -"

Roderich was cut off mid-sentence when Gilbert reached out and hooked his fingers under the shorter man's suspender straps, pulling the elastic material away from his body. Before Roderich had a moment to even comprehend what was about to happen, Gilbert released the stretchy material, allowing it to bounce back to its current position against Roderich's chest. There was a snapping sound as the suspenders made contact with the Austrian's body, and he shifted his eyes upward to glare at Gilbert as the Prussian lifted his arms, palms flattened and pointed upward, his shoulders rising in a shrug as a grin slipped over his lips.

"… what?"

Roderich did not respond in words, but instead raised his hand to strike it firmly against the back of his lover's head. The blow was solid and Gilbert flinched in reply, all traces of amusement dropping from his face.

"That fucking hurt!"

"And you don't think your little trick hurt me? Idiot! And what did I tell you about watching your language?"

They wasted a long moment glaring at each other coldly, and it was Gilbert that finally dropped his eyes, running a hand through his unruly white hair.

"… I don't handle stuff like this well. You know that. It makes me uncomfortable to be dressed up and serving dinner to a bunch of upper-class snobs. Not to mention, I get the pleasure of watching Eliza hang all over your arm. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Gilbert, you know that there's nothing between Eliza and me. She's a childhood friend, nothing more. I escort her to these ridiculous gatherings because it reflects well on my family and I enjoy her company platonically."

"Someone should really tell your father that. And her, for that matter."

The bitterness and resentment in Gilbert's tone was unmistakable, and Roderich closed the distance between them to double-check Gilbert's tie and try to make some form of order out of the mess that was his lover's hair.

"There's no need for jealousy, Gilbert. She may have her schoolgirl crush, if she so wishes to. It will change nothing. Eventually she will understand that I harbor no feelings for her, and she will permit another man to court her accordingly. While I am sure we will both be relieved when that day comes, she will always remain a good friend."

Gilbert grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but didn't speak further on the matter. When Roderich was done cleaning him up and making him look presentable, he dipped an arm down and wrapped it around the Austrian's waist, pulling him in for a brief kiss.

"I love you. Sorry I'm a jealous ass."

Roderich smiled softly, tracing the tips of his fingers over Gilbert's well-defined jawline.

"It's alright. I know these past years have not been easy on you. They have been difficult on me as well. I promise, once I find work here in Germany, it will become much easier. At this point, I'm willing to work just about any job I can find, if it means I may be closer to you."

Gilbert smiled, tightening his hold on his lover for the briefest of moments before releasing him and stepping back.

"I'm going to hold you to that promise, Little Master."

* * *

"… a new opera house?"

"That is correct. _Fräulein*_Hedervary overheard her father and me speaking about it, and she immediately suggested you, Herr Edelstein. She said you had been looking for work in Germany for a few years now, but have been unable to find anything because of the economy. Of course, your family name is famous, and everyone knows that you yourself have studied under the best of the best, but it was a surprise to me that you knew the Hedervary family personally and that you were seeking employment in Germany. I am in need of both a piano player and someone to assist me in balancing my books, and I feel that you would be perfect for the position. Of course, once my business has picked up, I will hire someone for the bookkeeping position so that you may dedicate yourself to playing in the orchestra and perhaps doing some traveling."

Roderich was in complete shock. After so many years of searching endlessly for work close to Gilbert, could it really be possible that a job had suddenly been dropped into his lap? All the hours of looking through papers, of making phone calls, of writing letters, only to receive scathing rejections or no reply at all… could it really be as simple as a personal connection?

He looked to Eliza, who grinned up at him triumphantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gilbert watching them intently, a drink tray balanced skillfully against his right shoulder. Everyone else at the table seemed to have taken no interest in their conversation, but Roderich still felt as though all eyes were on him as he took a sip of his water and cleared his throat.

"… well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. I do not know what to say, Herr Jung. It is rare that one attends a dinner party and is offered a job."

"I would not offer it to you if I didn't believe that you were the best of the best. My opera house is due to open in four months, so that should give you ample time to handle affairs in Austria. I will need you out here a month prior so that you can start handling the bookkeeping; I haven't a head for numbers, and I'll need you to organize my bills concerning construction costs. And, of course, you'll have to go through the proper audition before I can officially hire you. I have no doubt in your musical talents, but it would be unfair to anyone else looking for the position to be turned away just because of your family name."

Roderich nodded in agreement, trying to keep a wide grin from breaking out across his face. Three months! In just three months, right in time for spring, he would be moving to Germany! Away from his overbearing family, away from the expectations of marriage and courtship, finally self-sufficient and free to spend every night he so wished entwined in his lover's arms.

"Of course, Herr Jung. That will be more than enough time for me to handle my affairs at home, and I will be more than glad to make the trip back to audition. I can't tell you how much this chance means to me."

Eliza made a soft noise of elation and squeezed his arm, but Roderich didn't take any notice as he turned to look at Gilbert over his shoulder. The Prussian was keeping himself well-controlled, but there was no mistaking the sparkle of joy in his eyes when he lifted his gaze to meet Roderich's. Unable to hold it in any longer, Roderich allowed a wide, mirthful grin to spread across his lips in reply.

* * *

**Gilbert,**

**It's decided. Once I get this job, I'm coming to live with you in Germany. That way, we know for certain that we'll be together forever, and no one will spare a moment to stop us. **

**It will be you and me, like we wanted from the start. Does that sound fair? Of course it does, you're the one that keeps nagging me about it.**

**My answer is yes.**

**Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe.**

**Roderich**

* * *

"Did you get the job?"

"Gilbert, wait just a moment! I just stepped through the door, for goodness sake!"

Gilbert reminded Roderich very much so of a puppy awaiting the attentions of its master; he whined impatiently and practically bounced up and down on his heels as Roderich stripped off his long winter jacket and hung it up, then stooped to remove his boots.

"Roderich!"

"Yes, Gilbert."

"I need to know! Did you get the job or not?"

"I just answered you, but I suppose that I can say it again, because you apparently missed it. Yes, Gilbert."

Roderich expected Gilbert to scream with joy at the news. He expected the Prussian to scoop him up and embrace him fiercely. He expected any response but the sudden silence that fell over the room. Confused, he kicked off his boot and then straightened his back out so he could turn to look at his lover over his shoulder.

Gilbert's eyes were wide with shock, and Roderich could see where tears were starting to brim just below his red irises. There was a strange sort of intensity in that gaze that lit the room up with electricity and sucked all the oxygen out, leaving the Austrian breathless and spellbound.

"… I have to hear you say it, Roderich. I have to hear the entire thing, because I won't believe it until I do."

Gilbert's voice was so quiet that it was barely audible, but there was an intensity in his tone that send a shiver up Roderich's spine. Feeling his own eyes brim with tears, he turned his body to face his lover fully.

"Yes, Gilbert. I got the job. I'll be moving my things into an apartment in a week. I'm moving to Germany."

For the longest moment, Gilbert didn't respond. The air crackled around them and time seemed to stand in a suspenseful stillness. Then, as though some unseen force compelled him into motion, the Prussian broke the spell and crossed the space between them in two strides, scooping his lover up into his arms and pressing their lips together in a kiss that promised to leave bruises come the morning. Roderich reflexively locked his arms around Gilbert's shoulders and pulled him closer, entwining his fingers in his lover's soft hair as tears began to leak down his face.

When they parted for air, nothing was said as Gilbert looped one arm under Roderich's butt and began to carry him through the house, kicking open his bedroom door before crossing the threshold and laying the Austrian out across his bed. Roderich flattened his torso and allowed Gilbert to unbutton his shirt, moaning softly as the cool air hit his bare skin and a moment later a pair of lips dropped heated caresses along his torso. Hands fumbled at the buckle of his belt and then at the button of his pants, and he obediently lifted his hips and allowed Gilbert to slide his pants and boxers down to his knees.

"… but what about…"

"Not yet. It's about you right now."

Gilbert's lips trailed further down his stomach, finally coming to burrow into the short hair growing at his pelvic bone. A hand slid up his leg and stroked teasingly at his inner thigh, and he spread his legs and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed as Gilbert dropped onto his stomach and took him into his mouth. Although it hadn't been all that long since last they saw each other, Roderich's skin burned and screamed for Gilbert's touch. Their love was a drug, and Gilbert was the Austrian's perfect addiction.

"… Gilbert… God…"

"Gilbert! I thought I asked you to clean up this mess before I got home!"

By the time Roderich's mind registered that it was Ludwig that had spoken, Gilbert was already off the bed and halfway out the door. Roderich stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own pants as he took shelter against the wall and began to button his shirt.

"Gilbert, what the Hell is wrong with you? I would like to get by so I can start working on cleaning up _your mess_."

"Come on now, West! Don't be such a stick in the mud. Come and have a drink with me in the kitchen."

Their voices were dangerously close, just outside the bedroom door, and Roderich swallowed heavily and tried to force his trembling hands to work long enough to allow him to straighten himself up. His stomach rolled in rough waves of nausea and his heart pounded like thunder in his chest, so loud and so unpredictable that he was afraid the noise would give him away.

"Gilbert…"

There was a note of warning in Ludwig's voice, and Roderich felt a shudder of anxiety rock through his frame as he stuffed the hem of his shirt down into his pants and fumbled to button them, then to redo his belt buckle.

"West, seriously, I wouldn't go in there…"

A shadow cast itself across the floor and Roderich moved without thinking, slipping noiselessly into Gilbert's closet and huddling down in the corner as Ludwig's footsteps halted just inside the main doorway.

"What exactly is it that you're trying to hide in here, Gilbert?"

"… oh… um… the mess! It's an absolutely mess in here, and I didn't want you to see it!"

"I could care less if your room is a mess, Gilbert. What bothers me is when the kitchen is a mess, and it's _your _day to clean it up. By the way, there's a pair of boots and a winter coat in the hallway that I know doesn't belong to you. Is there someone here, and you're not telling me?"

In an instant, Roderich's heart came to a screeching halt. It was such a change from the rapid, sporadic tempo it had adopted minutes before that he actually had to press one hand to his chest to make sure he was still breathing. His other hand pressed itself against his mouth, ensuring that no sound would escape, as a long and terrifying pause filled the room.

"… Roderich's over. He came to celebrate getting his new job. Didn't you pass him in the hallway, or see him in the sitting room?"

"He got the job at the opera house? That wonderful! No, I didn't see him. You haven't had a drink yet, right? I want to be included in the toast."

Their voices and footsteps faded away as they left the room and Roderich exhaled a sigh of relief, coming to realize that his hands were shaking and his face was damp with tears. Slowly he was able to disengage his hand from where it was practically trying to fuse itself into his chest, using it to push himself up to stand on shaking legs. A wave of nausea overcame him and he buckled over, closing his eyes and struggling to catch his breath as he stumbled from the closet and made his way out the door and into the bright light of the hallway.

"Roderich, there you are! Did you get lost looking for the bathroom?"

Gilbert's tone was playful, but there was no mistaking the underlying concern that colored his voice. Roderich nodded and smiled weakly, finally able to tear his hand away from his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry. You would think I would know where it is by now, especially since your home is so much smaller than the ones I'm used to muddling my way through. Sorry."

"I heard about your job from Gilbert. Congratulations! I know you've been looking for work in Germany for the past few years, so it's wonderful that you've managed to find something. This calls for a celebratory toast."

Alcohol was the last thing on Roderich's mind, and definitely the last thing he wanted in his stomach, but turning down such an offer from Ludwig would be both improper and suspicious, and so he forced himself to follow the Beilschmidt brothers over to the small table that sat at the corner of their kitchen. He took a seat in the corner, wishing for nothing more than the ability to absorb himself into the wall and disappear, as Gilbert took a seat next to him and searched for his hand under the table.

"You alright, Roderich? You're looking a little pale."

Roderich jumped and instinctively jerked his hand out of Gilbert's as Ludwig returned to the table, carrying with him three small glasses and a tumbler of whiskey. He nodded, trying desperately to ignore the look of hurt that passed over his lover's face for the briefest of moments before his expression became even more painfully neutral and disassociated, and he reached for the glass with a whispered thanks as Ludwig pushed it in his direction.

"Yeah… it was just a tiring day. I'm staying with Eliza's family this week until my things are moved into my new apartment, so I'm going to call it an early night tonight. I came in on the train this morning, so I've been non-stop since I left Vienna."

Ludwig nodded a sympathetic understanding and then paid his brother and their friend an unknowing smile, raising his glass in a toast.

"To your success, Roderich. And to many more evenings of playing cards and Gilbert showing you around town."

Roderich gripped his glass tightly as he lifted it to meet Ludwig's. There was a moment of hesitation from Gilbert, and then he smiled and lifted his own glass as well.

"Indeed. Congratulations, Roderich."

To Roderich's ears, the clanking of the glasses together sounded more like the ringing of a funeral procession than it ever could the sweet bells of victory.

* * *

For three straight days, Roderich did nothing but cry. The moment he was alone in his room at the Hedervary home, he found himself a corner he deemed proper enough to foster his sorrow as he buried his face in his arms and sobbed piteously. When finally the tears dried up, he crawled fully-clothed into bed and drifted off, only to wake up hours later to start the entire process over again.

Gilbert had called on him a few times, but he had refused all visitors. His excuse at having caught a late-winter cold effectively quieted Eliza's concerns, but he was fairly sure it did nothing but concern his lover further.

On the fourth day, there was a quiet sort of acceptance that rose with the dawn. He showered and dressed early before taking a seat at the desk and retrieving two clean, crisp pieces of parchment paper.

* * *

**Fraülein Hedervarys,**

**My most gracious apologies for my recent illness. I still feel a bit under the weather, but this was a matter of the utmost importance that I felt could wait no longer. **

**We have been childhood friends for a very long time now, and I feel that this long span in which we have known each other so intimately may serve as the proper courting time our high-class society demands of us before marriage. With your father's blessing, I beseech you give me your hand in wedded marriage. **

**I await your response with bated breath,**

**Roderich Edelstein.**

* * *

Without looking the letter over, and barely permitting the ink time to dry, he neatly folded the single sheet and slipped it into an envelope, then called for a maid to deliver the document to Elizaveta directly.

The next letter was much, much harder, and it took all the restraint Roderich had to force himself to make his hand move, to script out the five simple words he could not even look at while he wrote. They ended up slightly crooked and in the center of the page, but it was the best he could do given that his eyes had been steadily focused on the wall through the excruciating thirty seconds it took him to write them down. He folded the paper, slipped into a second envelope, and left it sitting without an addressee on the desk as he returned to his corner, folded his arms, over his knees, and dipped his head down to rest against his forearms.

There were no more tears left to cry as he quietly waited for her answer.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N. *Fraulein is the proper term for an unmarried young lady in Germany and Austria.


	7. Chapter 6

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

WARNING: **This chapter depicts an extremely graphic suicide. If this kind of thing bothers you, I advise you do not read it. I will not be held accountable for any emotion scarring as a result.**

* * *

Chapter 06

* * *

_It had been exactly one year, nearly to the hour, since Gilbert Beilschmidt had passed away. _

_Roderich wasn't entire sure where the time had gone. There had been the drinking, which was evident by the ever-growing stash of empty whiskey bottles. There had been the deception, which was clear in the bottle in his bedside drawer that housed nearly nine months' worth of expensive pills he hadn't been taking. There was the dust that was making home on his piano, the blank music sheets, the new bookkeeper at his job and the talk around town of a new concert pianist who had come in for an interview. _

_Then there was the mirror. That, perhaps, was the hardest part for Roderich to stomach. Whereas everything else were signs that the only thing in the world that had stopped following Gilbert's gory suicide was Roderich, the mirror showed him that time had sped up mercilessly when it came to his body. His face was sunken in and sallow, his ribs jutted out against his skin, and layers upon layers of wrinkles had taken up home at the corners of his eyes and his mouth like generations of one family all laying atop each other. One year and six months ago, a woman in the market had commented that Roderich looked much more like a bright-eyed, spritely young teenager than he did a young man at the apex of thirty. He had blushed and thanked her while Gilbert hid his smile behind his hand and covered up his laughter with a well-placed clearing of his throat. Looking at himself now, Roderich appeared old. He appeared tired. In one year, he had somehow aged a lifetime. _

"_Roderich, I'm going into town to the market. Do you need anything?"_

_Thankful for an excuse to pull himself away from the reflection that stared back at him, Roderich left the bathroom and headed down the hallway and through the kitchen, discovering his wife just outside the back door with a basket clutched in her hand. _

"_No, but thank you for asking. Are you going over to Emma's house before you go to market?"_

"_After. Her mother says she's starting to show now, and their strawberry plants have consumed nearly the entire garden this year. They want me to come over and take some off their hands, and you know I have a weakness for those strawberry tarts you make." _

_He smiled faintly and nodded, and a moment of silence passed between them before Eliza spoke again. _

"… _if today isn't a good day for me to go, I can always go tomorrow. It's more of a leisure trip to the market today than a necessity, and I know that today is…"_

_She trailed off and he shook his head, trying to brighten his smile just a little more for her. _

"_No. Go, please. I know Emma would love the visit, and I'll be fine here by myself. Maybe I'll try and work on one of my piano pieces."_

_She smiled and nodded, visually pleased at the idea that her husband may finally be taking an interest in his passion after spending so long being completely disinterested. _

"_Okay. I'll be back later this afternoon or early evening. You know how Mrs. Brunkow loves to talk and entertain her guests. If you get hungry, there are croissants in the bread box."_

_He nodded and watched her turn away, swinging the basket at her side as she walked across the yard, down the hill, and disappeared onto the dirt road that led into town. He stood in the doorway for several minutes more, just to make sure she wouldn't come back to the house for anything, before he turned away and went back inside._

* * *

It was three am, one year after Gilbert's passing. Roderich had not even entertained the idea of going to bed, and Eliza hadn't pressured him to join her. The witching hour found him in the sitting room, the last letter he had ever written his lover laid out across the table along with three photos, a black jacket, and a metal cross Roderich rarely took off. He had polished off nearly two bottles of top-shelf whiskey in the span of just a few hours, yet he felt strangely sober and connected to reality as he stared at the few tangible items he had that represented the eight greatest years of his life. There had originally been eight letters that had been returned to him, though they had written many, many more. He had burned seven of them, yet was unable to bring himself to destroy the last one, even though it was by far the most painful. The only logic he could come up with for this decision was that those seven letters felt as though they were full of lies and broken promises. His intentions had been pure and his emotions sincere when he had scripted them, but none of that mattered now. He had promised Gilbert forever, and he had ripped that all out from under his lover's feet.

What made him feel the worst was that he had never even told Gilbert why.

**I'm getting married.**

**Good bye.**

Five words. Five simple words. They had been the hardest five words he had ever written down, and they were now the hardest five words for him to look at. The moment that Eliza had returned his letter with a polite but obviously elated acceptance to his proposal for marriage, he had written Gilbert's name on the blank envelope and asked the maid to please take it to him in the stables.

The next day, Elizaveta informed him that Gilbert had failed to show up for work. No letter, no phone call.

Three months later, their eyes had met in the marketplace. It was June 18th, 1959, just past one pm. Five hours later, a messenger arrived at the house with news of Gilbert's suicide. The coroner had later determined time of death to be between two and two-thirty pm.

The chair creaked under him as he rose to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest at the motion after spending so many hours immobile. Roderich barely acknowledged the discomfort as he grabbed the letter and the cross off the table, tucking both into his pocket before he carefully stashed the other items in his trunk in the corner and then went out into the hallway to retrieve his jacket and shoes.

The sky was cloudless and the moon nearly full, rendering the flashlight* he had grabbed from the kitchen drawer unneeded as he made his way with steady strides along the dirt road. The home Eliza's parents had given them as a wedding present lay on the southern outskirts of town, perhaps half a kilometer away from the market shops and just under a quarter of a kilometer from the cemetery. Many of the upper class and the elites had private family plots on their own property, but for those who did not own land their remains were often laid to rest in the small, well-maintained public graveyard.

The gates were locked when he arrived, a sign that the night watchman had come and gone, and it was little effort for Roderich to find a point in the fence where the bars were just wide enough for his lithe form to squeeze through. It had been a year since last he had stepped foot in this cemetery, but they had buried Gilbert beneath a towering willow tree in an area of the graveyard where no other graves yet existed, so his grave would not be hard to find. Ludwig had found it suiting, that his brother have such a quiet place for his bones to rest, but Roderich had been appalled at the idea. The man had died alone in all aspects, and isolating his grave from the others was something the Austrian found incredibly cruel. It had not been his place to say anything, however, and therefore he had remained silent on the matter.

As he made his way further into the cemetery the trees became more abundant and he was forced to pull the flashlight from his jacket pocket, flicking it on and directing it to the ground so he didn't trip or accidently trod on someone's grave. It may just be a plot of earth to anyone else, but losing someone he loved so dearly had made him realize that each and every grave was the final resting spot for someone who had been loved. To walk on that as though it was nothing would be a sin of the worst kind, and one he wanted to avoid at all costs.

When finally his flashlight beam came to rest on the wooden cross that had been hammered into the dirt, he found himself hesitating. What if Gilbert didn't want him here? What if Roderich was disturbing a merciful, peaceful sleep that the Prussian man had somehow managed to find? If there was anyone on earth who had no right to be here, it was him. For all intents and purposes, he had been the one to put Gilbert in the ground in the first place. Visiting this place may very well be a greater sin than stepping on the grave of a nameless stranger.

A warm summer's night wind seemed to rise up out of nowhere, caressing his back softly, and it compelled him to put one foot before the other and close the space between himself and the plot marker. He turned off the flashlight and sunk to his knees, kneeling before the wooden cross bearing his ex-lover's name as though he were a man bowing down to give confession before a priest. He slipped his hand into his pocket, extracting the metal cross and the letter, clutching both in shaking fists as he lifted his eyes to focus on Gilbert's name, scrawled across the wood.

"… I'm sorry…" he whispered, and those two simple words seemed to finally release the tears that had always been there, quietly waiting, never able to find the right moment to show their full might and magnitude. Within moments he was reduced to a sobbing mass against the earth, curling in on himself and pressing his forehead into the dirt as his body trembling uncontrollably and he gasped for breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so _sorry_… it wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to die. You were supposed to forget about me, and move on, and find someone who wasn't so… wasn't so…"

What had he been, anyway? What single word could justify the knife he had planted between the shoulders of the man he loved? Did such a word even exist, in their language or any other? Was there anything that could be said or done that could stand as a pardon for what he had done?

"… you lied to Ludwig for me. You fucking _lied_ to him, and I knew that you would always have to. You would always have to justify your whereabouts, you would always have to watch your back, you would always have to live in some form of fear of being discovered. And even if you were willing to take that on, I wasn't willing to allow you to do so. If I was discovered, they could have brushed it under the carpet. They would have accused me of being psychotic and committed me, but eventually they would have let me go. It would have blown over. But you… God, Gilbert… they would have crucified you. It would have been a black mark on you for the rest of your life. And they would have denied us from seeing each other. There's nowhere on this earth that we could have run to, could have hid. It was only a matter of time, before we slipped up. I couldn't let you lose your brother. You had already lost so much…"

They were all excuses. Every single word out of his mouth was an excuse, a cover-up, a mask meant to hide and distort what the real issue had been, what it still was.

"… I was so scared. I was scared, Gilbert. A coward. I was a goddamned coward. I left you because I was afraid. I was afraid for you. I was afraid _of_ you. Don't you understand how you made me feel, how you _still make me feel_? Can you even begin to understand how intense it is to love you? I was afraid, and you deserved better because of it. You deserved so much better than anything I could ever give you."

His words were inaudible through his weeping, but Roderich had the strangest sensation that they didn't need to be intelligible to be heard by the dead. There was something different about the air around Gilbert's grave, something electric and kinetic and almost alive. The very earth seemed to be abnormally warm, even for a pleasant summer's night, and when the wind picked up again, it seemed to form itself into long, slender fingers and stroke itself through his hair.

"I miss you. I miss you so much that every day it kills a little more of me. I can't… I can't do this without you. I can't live without you. I haven't been alive since the day you died. I've spent the last year dead. How is the world has kept moving, when I've somehow stopped?"

Everything around him became still and eerily silent, and Roderich forced himself back up onto his knees from his crouched position, wiping tears from his eyes and unclenching his fist so he could hold the cross out in his open palm. The hard metal had left indentations on his skin, but he paid it no mind as he leaned forward and looped the cloth cord around the top of Gilbert's wooden headstone. The metal Prussian cross came to rest just above Gilbert's name, as though it had been meant to be there all along, and Roderich afforded a ghost of a smile.

"You should take this back. I don't deserve it."

He reached down and picked up the letter out of his lap, gently smoothing the wrinkles out of it and laying it on the ground before he lifted his eyes to the grave marker once more.

"I'm most sorry for this. You deserved an explanation, and I never gave you one. Instead, you're getting one now. That's unfair, and that was cold of me. Uncalled for and completely unforgivable."

He reached deeper into his pocket, extracting a pack of matches. His hands were strangely still as he struck one against the rough paper side, and there was the hissing of the end taking flame and the slight odor of sulfur before his face was illuminated and slight shadows cast themselves across the ground. Roderich reached down and picked up the paper, holding the flame to the corner until it caught fire. He watched it burn, his eyes becoming transfixed on the small flame as it spread its way across the paper, slowly eating away at the parchment and leaving ash behind that caught a ride on a soft breeze and disappeared into the dark. When the paper was nearly consumed he shifted his hold, cradling it in his palm and taking no mind to the slight pain the fire left behind.

When it was long gone and the world was still once more, Roderich picked up his flashlight and rose to his feet. His eyes stung and his cheeks were sticky, but the tears were gone and had left in their place a sort of peace that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"If there is still a home for me, then I'm going to go there. I'm going to go home, Gilbert."

* * *

_On his way back to the bedroom, Roderich stopped to retrieve his last bottle of whiskey from the chest in the sitting room. He tucked it protectively under his arm and carefully locked the chest back up before rising to his feet, making his way through the quiet house to the bedroom he shared with his wife. Not a wrinkle was to be found on the hand-knitted white blanket stretched across the mattress, and it was almost a shame to ruin such perfection as Roderich sank down onto his side and set the whiskey on the bedside table. He took a deep, calming breath before he reached down to the drawer and pulled it open, slipping one slender hand in to extract the hidden bottle of Rivivol pills he had been adding to progressively over the past several months. The brown bottle was heavy in his hands, nearly full with the large white pills his wife had spent so much money and banked all her prayers on. _

_Roderich found herself wondering if Elizaveta would have been so willing to purchase them if she had been aware of what they would eventually be used for._

_His hands trembled slightly, and even though his mind told his body to move, to unscrew the cap, there was a fear inside him that made him sit completely paralyzed. Was it going to hurt, to die? Gilbert had chosen a route that was quick and effective, but Roderich's path was not nearly so easy. Time would be needed for the medication and the liquor to combine, and he would have to be sure to take enough to be beyond the threshold of being saved by the time Elizaveta came home from the market. Very little was known about this drug other than that the doctor called it a 'MAOI', and had explained that it worked by inhibiting something in his brain. He hadn't really been paying much attention, but he did remember that the doctor had mentioned no specific dietary restrictions. Of course, it didn't take a doctor to figure out that mixing alcohol and medication was not the best of ideas; one needed only to read the obituaries to figure out that people took their lives nearly every day by ingesting high levels of alcohol and prescription pharmaceuticals. For those that survived, it was only thanks to being found in time and forced to ingest liquid charcoal through a tube inserted through their nose and pushed into their stomach. It was a horrible way to die, but an even more horrible way to be saved. _

_Roderich was not afraid of dying. If anything, the thought of death was a welcomed one, after existing as he had over the past year. He was, however, afraid of the pain that undoubtedly would come. Even that, however, was overshadowed by the realization that if he didn't do this now, then he would live with a pain of an entirely different kind for however many years transpired before he passed away of natural causes. If the last year had felt like a lifetime, then he dreaded the idea of countless lifetimes of silent suffering. _

_When his brain told his body to move this time, his body responded. He unscrewed the cap and dropped it to the floor, then overturned the entire bottle into his cupped hand. Nine months' worth of pills had been gestating and multiplying within, waiting for the day they could be birthed, and they spilled over his hand and dropped like poison rain across the floor at his feet. He discarded the bottle on the floor and used his other hand to shift the load, bringing the pills up to his mouth and shoveling them in before reaching out blindly for the whiskey. His throat burned and his taste buds screamed in response to the bitter pills mixed with the bitter brew, but he pushed past the nausea that rose in his mouth as he swallowed roughly, nearly gagging on the large mass that forced its way down his windpipe and into his stomach. He set the half-empty whiskey bottle aside and dropped to his knees, collecting every last Rivivol he could find off the floor and sending them down to join the others, stopping only when he had nearly run out of whiskey. Slowly, carefully, as though he was afraid of disturbing the lethal concoction in his stomach, he rose off his knees and settled himself on the bed, folding his hands into his lap and staring at the wall. He had expected something to happen nearly instantaneously, so he was surprised that other than a slight nausea and a sore throat, he felt perfectly fine. _

_It was perhaps twenty minutes in when he heart skipped its first beat. The sensation was so strange and so unexpected that he physically jumped, and was compelled to rise to his feet and pace back and forth across the short space between the bed and the wall. A second skip echoed through his heart and he winced at the pain it brought with it, lifting a hand to his chest as he leaned against the wall for support. His vision blurred and then refocused, blurred and then refocused, and as he pushed off the wall to try and make it back to the bed, the world tilted and swayed beneath his feet and he crumpled to his knees. Flailing one hand out to find the wall once more, he reached up with his other and tore his glasses off, tossing them carelessly across the room. _

"… _oh God… oh God, oh God, oh God…" _

_He wasn't sure if he had spoken the words, or merely thought them. There was a buzzing in his head and a fiery heat creeping up from his stomach, lighting his face on fire and turning the discomfort in his chest into a raging inferno. An unseen vice affixed itself around his head and began to squeeze, placing pressure on his frontal lobes before spreading to encompass his entire head. He opened his mouth to scream, only to instead lurch forward as he began vomiting up a putrid mix of white foam, whiskey, and bile. _

_The bed… he had to get back up onto the bed. The only thing worse than Elizaveta coming home to find him dead would be for her to come home and find him dead on the floor in a puddle of his own vomit._

_Standing was nearly unbearable, but somehow he managed to do it. Without his glasses he was nearly blind, and the blurring of his vision helped to stave off the vertigo long enough that he could move the two steps needed to the bed before collapsing against it, sending a ricochet of pain through his body and bringing with it another wave of vomiting. He crawled up onto the bed and fumbled under the pillow, infusing all of his panic and hysteria into finding what he had stashed there a year ago and kept close to him at all times. His fingers sought and missed, sought and missed, sought and missed again until finally they located the gloss of the photo paper and closed around it, pulling it out and curling his fingers around it in an attempt at self-comfort. He cracked his eyes open and struggled to focus on the fuzzy image of Gilbert that smiled back at him, hammer in hand and half-smile decorating his features. _

"… _come… coming home… I'm coming home, Gilbert…"_

_There was a popping noise in the back of his head and a surge of white-hot agony in his eye and he screamed in pain, doubling over and pressing his free hand against his face. When he dared to open his eye again, he saw nothing but a field of red and black*. His heart pounded and thrummed in his chest, his stomach rolled like the barrel of a washing machine, and his head and neck muscles tightened and tightened and tightened until he had to curl his head down and touch his chin against his chest to ease his suffering. _

_Breathing was nearly impossible now, and Roderich entertained the thought for a fleeting moment that he may very well suffocate before the mix of Rivivol and whiskey had the chance to effectively stop his heart. Then the pain in his chest blossomed into an entirely different creature, metamorphosing into a demon that wiggled and squirmed and howled, and Roderich howled with it as his hand abandoned its place over his eye and gripped at the sheets beneath him, the hand clutching Gilbert's picture flying up to press itself against the spot just above his heart. There was another pop, behind his left eye this time, though once he had closed it and then opened it again, he was surprised to find that his vision was not obscured as it was with his right eye. If anything, he could suddenly see with a clarity and focus he rarely achieved even when he was wearing his glasses. _

_Standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a slight smile decorating his features, was Gilbert. _

_In an instant, everything slowed to a painful crawl. His heart was still beating, but the speed was normal, and he could hear it vibrating in his ears along with the sound of his own breathing. The pain was still there, but he was able to push it to the background of his thoughts as he focused instead on those intense red eyes and half-cocked grin. _

… _**Gilbert...**_

_Gilbert shifted his weight from left foot to right, his hair falling over one eye, that same smile never leaving his face. _

_**I'll be waiting.**_

_The world returned to normal time and the pain returned with triple intensity, and Roderich was horrifying aware of his body slipping into convulsions as an unseen force slid into his chest, gripped his lungs and heart in a cold fist, and began to squeeze. All the oxygen escaped his body in a rush and he gasped like a fish out of water to get it back, clawing at the sheets in a last desperate, reflexive attempt at staying alive. _

_Then the darkness descended, and his eyes slid shut. _

_And then there was nothing anymore._

* * *

TBC

* * *

A.N.: This chapter was really intense for me to write, and I'm sure it was fairly intense for you as readers to read. Hopefully people paid attention to the warning at the beginning of this chapter.

*flashlight = torch in some countries

When Roderich combined a MAOI (Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor) with alcohol, his body went into a state known as hypertensive crisis. When this occurred, his heart rate and blood pressure elevated rapidly, he experienced states of hallucinations and mental psychosis (hence him seeing Gilbert right before he died), and he suffered two retinal hemorrhages (hence the popping he heard, followed by the disruption of vision). Additionally, the amount of pills ingested at once put him in a state of severe MAOI toxicity, which accounts for the seizure that was so severe that his respiratory system (lungs) failed and collapsed, leaving him to suffocate. Ultimately this, along with heart failure, is what killed him.

In the 1950s, doctors had no idea that MAOIs can react so dangerously with certain foods. At that time, this specific classification of drugs was only available in a form that competely shut down monoamine oxidase in the brain. This made the drug even more dangerous than its current-day counterparts, which do not shut down this compound entirely. Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitors are rarely prescribed in current times due to the danger they pose to the body and the way they react with certain foods and drinks (mainly cheese, cured meats and alcohol), though Rivivol is apparently still prescribed in France.

There's your neuropsychoparmacology lesson for the day, and thanks so much for reading! I plan to have the epilogue up shortly, so please be patient on the last leg of this wonderful journey!


	8. Epilogue

**Whiskey Lullaby**

**An adaptation of the **_**Whiskey Lullaby **_**CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group**

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

* * *

For those who are interested, here is the timeline for my adaptation of _Whiskey Lullaby_.

Gilbert Beilschmidt – Born January 18th, 1925: Died June 18th, 1958 (Age 33)

Roderich Edelstein – Born October 26th, 1928: Died June 18th, 1959 (Age 29)

Gilbert and Roderich met in early summer of 1950. Gilbert was 23 and Roderich was 19.

Elizaveta and Roderich were wed in Spring 1958.

Gilbert's father was force-drafted into the German SS in early 1940, just before Gilbert turned 15.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

_Eliza walked through the center of town with her head held high, doing her best to ignore the stares and whispers that circulated through the air around her. Every once in a while, someone would stop her on the street and give her a sad smile, offering their condolences for her loss. She would smile softly in reply and mutter some form of thank you, shrugging off any attempts at a kind touch in favor of continuing on to her destination._

_The scene she had come home to the night before had been nothing short of horrifying. Her husband had been curled up on his side of their bed, a trail of white-foam vomit trailing from his mouth and creeping across the covers to drip off the side, forming a small puddle on the floor. His lips and fingertips had been blue and his eyes half-open, and she had been able to see where the whites of his eyes had filled with blood, making the purple of his irises stand out in stark contrast. Immediately she had screamed his name, dropped to her knees, and begun shaking him in a vain hope that he may still be alive. It had taken her all of perhaps ten seconds to realize that he was gone, and had probably been gone for hours, and that was when she had collapsed in on herself, buried her face in her hands, and broke down sobbing. _

_When she had found the strength lift her head, the sun had set and darkness had descended on the house. It was a little easier to pull herself up off the floor at that point, given that she could no longer make out anything further than the outline of Roderich's corpse through the inky blackness. As though in a trance she had made her way back down the hallway and into the sitting room, turning the light on and allowing her eyes to adjust before she had picked up the receiver on the phone and dialed in her parents' number._

_Five minutes later, with no clear memory of what she had told her father, she had turned off the light in the sitting room, turned on the light in the kitchen, and made her way back towards the bedroom. There was something important there, something she had seen but had not fully registered, something that needed attention before anyone else saw Roderich's body. _

_When she had flipped the light on, her eyes had instantly been drawn to the picture clutched in her husband's hand. It had taken her grief-burdened mind several long moments to register who was in the picture, but the moment she had, it was as though something inside her mind had fallen into place and clicked. _

"… _oh, Roderich…" _

_The front door had opened and her father's voice had called her name, and she had snatched the picture up and quickly tucked it into her belt, effectively hiding it from prying eyes. If Roderich had not wanted his own wife to know of the true nature of his relations with his best friend, she highly doubted he wanted anyone else to know, either. _

_She had slept very little last night, but the morning had brought with it some form of clarity and peace and she had been able to rise, shower, and take in breakfast with her parents before leaving their home to journey into town. There was still a lot of business to attend to for the funeral, but she needed to speak to one very important person before she could move on and make the proper arrangements to bury her husband. And so she made her way through town, politely accepting the offers of sympathy, until she located the office she was looking for and pushed the door open, escaping from the heat of a late June afternoon. _

"_Thank you for coming, I'll be with you in just one… Elizaveta?"_

_Eliza smiled softly at Ludwig as he looked up from his paperwork at her, crossing the small room and taking a seat at the other side of his desk._

"_Ludwig. I pray the day finds you well?"_

_A look of shock overtook his features, but after a moment he recovered and gave her a soft nod. She noticed, however, that he was unable to meet her eyes and that he struggled for a long moment before he was able to speak again. _

"_Well enough, all things being considered. I must confess, I'm surprised to see you out and about. I would have thought that, given the circumstances, you would be home mourning your loss. If I did not already have a colleague out sick, I may very well be doing just that right now." _

_It was only then that she noticed the red that rimmed his eyes and the shadows that had made home across his features, making him appear old and somewhat fragile. It was doubtful that he had slept much more than she had last night; she had made sure he was informed immediately, although it was more than apparent that the news of Roderich's passing had spread through the town like wildfire. Even if she had not told him, he would have found out through other means. _

"_As Roderich's next of kin, it falls on me to arrange his funeral. Before I can do that, I needed to speak to you."_

_A look of confusion passed over his face, and for the first time his eyes shifted from where they had been settled on the wall to look at her directly. _

"… _me? I don't understand, Elizaveta."_

"_Do you know how my husband died, Ludwig?"_

"_According to the townspeople, it was alcohol poisoning. We all suspected that he had a drinking problem following Gilbert's death, but I never dreamed it was this severe. Why did you not reach out for help?"_

"_I did reach out for help, but not for his alcoholism. After your brother passed away, Roderich fell into a deep depression. Nothing I said or did could pull him out of it. I even had an American doctor who was traveling through Germany come in and prescribe him some medication. I thought he was taking it, and I thought it was helping. That is, until I came home last night to find that he had somehow taken nearly every pill the doctor had sent him over the last nine months with an entire bottle of whiskey. Roderich didn't die of liver cirrhosis, Ludwig. He committed suicide. The coroner isn't sure, but he thinks that he may have gone into convulsions, which caused his lungs to collapse and his heart to fail. Of course, to save face, they won't put that on his death certificate, but I'll have his official paperwork soon enough." _

_Ludwig's eyes widened in shock and then immediately brimmed with tears, and Elizaveta reached across the table and placed her hand over it, a gesture meant to both comfort and assure him that he was not alone. _

"… _but why? Why, when he knew that yesterday was the one-year anniversary of Gilbert's death? Why would he choose yesterday, of all days?"_

"_I feel that the date was deliberate." _

_She reached into her purse and extracted the picture of Gilbert, holding it out for Ludwig to take. He did so with slow, careful movement, looking over the image of his brother smiling back at him before he lifted his gaze to her once more. _

"… _what is this?"_

"_I found this clutched in Roderich's hand last night. I took it before the coroner showed up to take his body away. I also found the key to his trunk in his bedside table drawer, and I found more things in there. A few more pictures, a jacket, and some letters. I didn't go through the letters, but I don't have to. If you turn the picture over, I think it will tell you everything you need to know." _

_He did as she suggested, and it was only when his eyes widened further and he inhaled sharply that she knew he had put two and two together just the same as she had. _

"…_Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe…" _

"_Yes. The exact same thing Gilbert wrote in his suicide note a year ago. Ludwig, I came here today to ask your permission to bury Roderich next to Gilbert in the public cemetery. Because you technically own that plot of land, I have no legal right to make that decision without you present. And even if I did, I would still ask. It's only respectful."_

_Ludwig turned the picture over in his hands a few times, biting his lip while he struggled to figure out what to say next. _

"… _do you think that they…"_

"_I cannot say with any certainty, but it appears that way. Looking back at it now, it makes perfect sense. There was always something just a little different about them, whenever they were together. They always seemed a little happier. Not to mention, they spent every moment they could with each other, and Roderich was tireless in his search for work in Germany, even though he could have found something much closer to home in Austria. Gilbert quit working for my family the day after Roderich and I became engaged, and he passed away three months after the wedding. I don't have to tell you what that did to my husband."_

"… _I just can't believe…"_

"_Neither can I, not fully. But I cannot ignore the facts. Nor can I ignore that laying Roderich to rest next to Gilbert would help both of them find peace in death."_

"_Aren't you angry?! Aren't you absolutely __**furious**__ at the very __**idea**__ that your __**husband**__ could have been –"_

_Eliza raised her hand, both to remind him to keep his voice down and to stop him, giving him a sad smile even as tears welled up in her eyes. _

"_When I first started thinking about it, really __**thinking**__ about it, I was absolutely livid. I felt completely betrayed that the man I loved, the man who asked me to marry him and put a ring on my finger, had done so out of anything other than mutual attraction and adoration for me. I wanted to scream, and to curse his name, and I wanted him alive again, if only so I could kill him myself. At the very least, I wanted to beat him over the head with a frying pan. And I am a woman of God, so I am not prone to thoughts or acts of violence."_

_She paused and cast her eyes down to the ring on her left ring finger, rubbing it idly with her fingertip. _

"_I laid awake for a long time last night thinking about all this. I laid there consumed by my anger. But, then… then I started thinking about it. I started wondering if things would be different if we lived in a place where God wasn't such a big force in our society. I wondered if they would have been compelled to hide their relationship, if there was anything there to hide, if we lived in a place where people could just be people, and gender didn't make a difference. It's a silly thing to think, I know, but I couldn't help but wonder. The Bible tells us to love everyone, because we all sin, yet we crucify those who fall in love with people of the same sex. We have been given free will, but we shun those who choose to take advantage of that fact. In suppressing homosexuality and shaming those who are that way, aren't we just going against the word of God? Don't we hate, when we're supposed to love? It is God's place, and God's place __**only**__, to judge. It's disgusting that we've somehow forgotten that."_

_She was crying now, though the smile had never left her face, and Ludwig reached into his pocket and extracted a clean handkerchief, holding it out to her. She took it with a nod of thanks and dabbed at her eyes, taking a moment to find her composure before she continued. _

"_I loved my husband, Ludwig. I have loved Roderich since the day I met him, and I will love him until the day I die. When I took my vows, I promised to love him without condition. If I were to stop loving him or love him less because of what I perceive as the truth, I would be breaking my vows. Even though I'm not sure that Roderich took his with the same honesty he did, I have to believe that he at least loved me in his own way. Even if he loved Gilbert more, there was still a place in his heart for me. Feeling the way I do, I have to bury him next to your brother. If not next to him, then as close as the law will allow. If things really were that way between them, then their bones should be laid to rest together. And if I'm wrong, and they were just friends, then they were the best of friends. And best friends don't mind sharing space." _

_Ludwig stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. When finally he did open his mouth, it was so he could sigh heavily and remove the wire-rimmed reading glasses he wore, bringing a hand up to massage the tender flesh between his eyes. _

"_Elizaveta, I don't… I don't know how to feel about all this. You've seen me in church, you __**know**__ how I feel about homosexual acts. I'm not sure I can condone such a relationship, even in death."_

"_You loved your brother, Ludwig. You still do. Gilbert worked hard to support you both, and he gave up a lot to make sure you could finish school and become an accountant. I know these things only because he's told me himself. Gilbert made sure you had the most comfortable life he could provide for you after your parents died. Now it's time for you to return that favor to him. I'm not asking you to do this for Roderich; I'm asking you to do it for Gilbert."_

_Ludwig looked as though he wanted to object, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he appeared suddenly lost for words and closed it again, pursing his lips instead. _

"… _I want some time to think about it." _

_She nodded and rose to her feet, thanking him quietly when he handed her back the picture of Gilbert. _

"_There are other pictures, if you'd like one. I intend upon keeping one for myself as well, but I'm going to bury Roderich with this one. I'll wait for your answer before I make any plans. Thank you for your time, I'll see myself out."_

* * *

_They buried Roderich on the day of the solstice. It really was ironic, the way the days lined up. A year ago, Gilbert had been laid to rest on the last day of spring, and the weather had been unusually cool. It was now the first day of summer, and the weather had once again shown a need to be tepid. Eliza had donned her black funeral dress and styled her hair for the occasion, thankful that Ludwig had responded quickly and had given her the answer she had been hoping for. It was apparent that he was still uncomfortable with the idea, and Eliza was as well if she were to be honest with herself, but love had transcended societal norms, and she felt that neither one of them regretted their decisions. _

_The service was small and quiet. When they had laid Gilbert to rest, there had been only four in attendance; Ludwig, Feliciano, Elizaveta, and Roderich. That number was now reduced to three, and Eliza felt a suiting sense of déjà vu as she paid the tall German man and his short, bright-eyed Italian friend a sad smile. Gilbert's funeral had not had a minister present because it was an expense the Beilschmidt family could afford, and they had elected to forego one for Roderich's service, given the circumstances. If their relationship really had been sexual in nature, then a man of God was not appropriate. If it had not been, Eliza could only pray that the sin would fall to her and Roderich's soul would not suffer as a result. _

_She allowed Feliciano and Ludwig to lay flowers upon the grave first, fixating her eyes on the wooden cross that now bore two names rather than one. Her eyes drifted up to the cross that rested just above Gilbert's name and she crinkled her brow in confusion, turning to look at Ludwig as he returned to her side. _

"… _was that there before?"_

_Ludwig shook his head, though the smile he gave her was surprisingly relaxed and peaceful. _

"_No. I looked all over for that necklace, when I made the arrangements for Gilbert. I never could find it, and I always wondered where it went. I have my answer now." _

_She nodded her head absently, trying to recall from her memory if she had ever seen her husband wearing it, as she stepped forward and crouched down to lay a rose upon the grave. As she returned to a standing position and stepped back to join the others, she allowed her eyes to drift off to the right, more a reflexive motion than anything else. Immediately she caught sight of movement and turned her head entirely, her eyes widening a moment later. _

_Standing at the back of the cemetery, nearly obscured by a thicket of tall grass, were two male deer. Their mouths moved lazily as they chewed their meals, the motions almost mechanical, but what caught her attention was that they were staring straight at her with gazes that seemed almost familiar. Then, after several long seconds, one buck dipped its head down to nibble on a fresh patch of grass. The second held her eyes for a moment longer, looked to its partner, and then lowered its head to follow suit. _

_Against her will, a fresh bout of tears welled in her eyes and a smile broke across her face. She had prayed to the Lord for a sign, for any indication that the decision she had made was the right one. If this was not a sign, then she didn't know what was._

"_Elizaveta, are you okay?"_

_She tore her gaze from the sight of the deer and gave Ludwig a nod, wiping at her eyes. _

"_Yes. I'm okay. Sorry."_

"_Are you ready to go?" _

_She turned back towards where the deer had been, not surprised to find that they had already moved on. _

"_Yes. I'm ready to go home."_

* * *

_The pain was gone. More than just the physical pain of dying, there was also a lack of the emotional agony that had tormented him for the year that felt like an eternity. Roderich lifted his face towards the sun, wondering why he could not feel its heat upon his skin for a brief moment before he remembered that he was dead. In the afterlife, it made sense that there was no need for sensations he had experienced in life. __He cast his gaze upon the train tracks that stood before him, and out of nowhere Gilbert seemed to materialize. Dressed in black jeans and his standard white work shirt, hands jammed down into his pockets as he walked leisurely along the tracks. His back was to Roderich and his shoulders were relaxed as though he were merely killing time waiting in a place where time itself was completely irrelevant. After a moment he halted, turning to glance over his shoulder. A half-smile slipped over his features, then blossomed into a full grin. _

_**I've been waiting for you. **_

_It was not a voice that spoke, but more like a whisper on the wind. Roderich had already been aware of the fact that he was not alone, that there was another soul here. In this place, on this train track, he did not have to see his companion to know he was close. He did not have to hear him speak to know his thoughts. It was as though they were one now, linked together by a stream of unconscious consciousness. When one moved, the other followed suit. What one felt, the other felt in kind. Kinetic energy hummed around them, dancing across the thread that linked them not only to each other, but to every person who had crossed the nexus from life to death._

_Gilbert turned and reached his hand out. Roderich looked to his face, then to the hand that was extended out towards him. _

_**It's okay now. I forgive you.**_

_He had known that, of course. Known it because it traveled along the thread that connected their souls. Known it because in this place, there were no bad feelings. There was no pain. There was only him, and the man he loved, the quieted thrumming of others he could not see, and the endless expansion of eternity that waited for them. _

_Roderich reached out and took Gilbert's hand, engulfed by the most wonderful realization that he would never have to let it go again._

* * *

FIN

* * *

Thank you to everyone who made this journey possible; your devotion, your patience, and your dedication made all the world of difference. This story was an amazing experience, and I'm so thankful that you were all here to share this with me.


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